Friday, March 25, 2011

My AquaTherapy

I recently took a trip to Vegas and my hubs unexpectedly upgraded us to a suite.  I've stayed in suites plenty of times before and didn't think it would be any big deal.  I mean, it takes an awful lot for me to feel impressed by any hotel room - no matter how well appointed it may be.

The bathtub made it a big freaking deal!

I love relaxing in water. . .I absolutely love it.  I'm constantly disgusted by the fact that most bathtubs aren't deep enough or long enough to enjoy a good soaking.  I'm so desirous of a fantastically wonderful bathtub that I'll do darn near anything to get one.  Heck, it has become a requirement that I need fulfilled when we buy our next house.

How much do I enjoy soaking?  Enough that I spent nearly two hours luxuriating in this wonderfully deep and long tub.  Two freaking hours!  Yep, I spent almost 120 minutes doing absolutely nothing, but sitting in a tub full of water.  Such decadence is unheard of for me these days and I enjoyed every single second of it!  I'm most happy that I didn't suffer even the least amount of guilt over my indulgence.

I filled that lovely basin with warm-hot water, disrobed, and slipped in.  The water licked my thighs and swallowed me up. . .I knew then that I was in for a special treat.  My laptop was playing an eclectic mix of musical selections that I chose specifically for my listening pleasure; Gordon Lightfoot, Graham Nash, Joni Mitchell, and Guns & Roses.  The bathroom quickly became a humid slice of Heaven here on Earth.

The heat of the water raised my core body temperature and made sweat begin to bead up on my body.  Before long, every bit of exposed skin began to shimmer.  Though my hands were out of the water, the backs of my hands were totally wet.  The nape of my neck was hot and my hair frizzed up until I shook it loose from my clip and let tendrils fall into the water while I leaned back and relaxed.  Rivulets of heat-induced moisture drizzled down between my breasts.  I wet a washcloth and used it to wipe away my salty sweat. . .mainly so I wouldn't look like some sweaty beast in case my hubs decided to join me.

I wondered at a certain point, an hour in, how I would make it from the tub to the bed.  If you've ever used a deep bathtub, you'll know that it is impossible to enter or exit in a dignified fashion.  Dignity went out the window for me a long time ago (thankfully, my hubs still likes me for some reason!), but it's ridiculously difficult to exit after your muscles have been softened to the point that they are floppier than overdone pasta.

Turns out that I didn't have to worry about looking like a clumsy buffoon in front of my fella since I heard his snoring from the main bedroom.  I drained the bathtub, feeling sad that this special time was nearly over, and found a way to push myself up and out.  Thank goodness for somewhat strong triceps!

My skin was a deep shade of pink and felt incredibly sensitive to temperature and touch. . .bliss.  It was absolute bliss.

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