Everything hurts. And I only have myself to blame … oh, and my sister’s spa. My sister’s spa has A LOT to answer for … Naughty spa.
I developed an addiction over the Christmas break to spending my afternoons lazing around on a deck with my feet up, eating home-delivered pizza and sipping $5 Aldi rose (surprising bang for buck). It was lovely, but my dissaccharide deficient body told me was time to return to the straight and narrow.
I kicked yesterday off on the right note: an 8am pump class at the gym. Things veered slightly off track over yum cha with DD, but I showed superhuman levels of restraint by not having the spring rolls and turning away from the salt and pepper squid. And I took a long walk through the bush afterwards with my sister and the dogs.
Later, an old friend arrived at my sister’s place for a belated birthday celebration. So we climbed into the spa with a bottle of Verve Cliquot … and didn’t climb back out again for three hours. My sister’s partner replaced the Verve at some hazy point with another sparkling drop. Bless him.
Around 10pm, I tottered home in my wet bikini and runners with the feral furball on his leash. When I sent DD a blurry selfie, he said it was pretty standard sight in his beachy neck of the woods, but I suspect I was quite the eye-opener in mine.
Despite how bleary I feel this morning, I’ve decided spas are freaking awesome.
Sitting in the bubbling water, sipping champers and chattering away was bulk fun. My sister’s divine bloke hung around for the first hour before edging off to watch the tellie and leave the chicks to it.
The spa is a mosaic-tiled number with fancy coloured lights in the water. It’s gas heated and positioned under the stars. We had ’80s music playing and champagne flowing and a platter of sushi on the side. What’s not to like? (Other than the smell of chlorine when you have a cracking hangover?)
My sister reckons she’s been having a soak with her divine bloke most nights since they christened it earlier this month. They’re stoked with it.
And so am I – I’ve invited myself back for New Year’s Eve. Can’t wait … though I might go a bit easier on the champagne next time (and the weights at the gym … oh my aching shoulders).
Ouchy ouch ouch.
Do you like spas?
Song of the day: Oasis “Champagne Supernova”