“Body butter, drenching.”

“Body butter, drenching.”

“Body butter, dren – oops, there’s my exit!”

If ever there was a morning I needed a good buttering and drenching, today was it.  I had left a husband making crêpes in my just-cleaned kitchen, my floors had sticky puddles on top of the sticky puddles that needed cleaning last week, and my laundry piles had physically eaten my laundry room.  Engulfed.  Digested.  Gone. Burp. I was headed for ninety minutes of being slathered in something akin to butter, being wrapped in plastic and blankets until it absorbed, then I would be massaged until I was unconscious.  (Maybe I added that last part)  To say I was excited is to say the sea is wet; there may have been actual skipping as I got out of my car in the parking lot.

The Sego Lily Mind Body Spa isn’t just pretty; it’s a knockout.  The Palladio colors and architecture are reminiscent of something you’d stumble across in an Italian countryside, were you lucky enough to stumble across a wellness spa as you hoofed it through the Italian countryside.  This isn’t a strip mall spa; there are no cheesy posters on the wall, no sixteen year-olds getting their hair blown out for prom in the front room, no smell of nail polish remover wafting or fluorescent lighting overhead.  From the moment you walk through the heavy wrought iron doors, you get the message: This is an escape.

After I checked in and was shown to the changing room, I was given my eggplant chenille-lined robe and spa slippers and instructed to change and wait for my therapist in the relaxation room.  I couldn’t get there as fast as planned – the changing room alone could’ve held my interest for twenty minutes.  Spa quality face lotions and rinses, complimentary Q-tips, hair elastics, razors, deodorant, hairspray; that was just the stuff by the sink!  There were showers, a steam room, a sauna – you name it.  Had I somewhere to go other than home to my laundry room’s skeletal remains, I would’ve been set.  Then, the relaxation room:  They aren’t kidding; I was tempted to ditch the treatment and see how long I could go unnoticed on the huge, overstuffed couches.  Low light, an assortment of herbal teas, hot chocolate, mints, fresh fruit and - get this - a melody of dried fruit on which I could drizzle dark chocolate syrup infused with antioxidants!  Stop it, Sego Lily.  You’re messing with my reality.

After a few relaxing minutes and ample snooping, Kaylie appeared in her all-black attire and I mean business apron and greeted and escorted me to my room.  So it began.  This wasn’t my first rodeo, if you get my drift, so I assured Kaylie, as she walked me through the process, that this body had seen ample time inside a spa.  How wrong I was – there are treatments, and then there are treeeeeeaaatments. Kaylie rubbed me in something that was literally the texture and consistency of butter, except it smelled like lime verbena and the aroma combined with the warmth of the room made me feel like I was lying on a beach somewhere, sun drenched to my toes.  And did I mention the table was warmed?  Warmed!  The gentle heat radiated up from my underside and wrapped around me like a blanket – oh wait, that was the actual blanket Kaylie wrapped me in when she was through slathering; a cozy cocoon so snugly and moist I felt akin to a baked potato in foil, sizzling away on the oven’s top rack.  While I marinated, Kaylie covered my eyes in an herbal  mask (Yum, lavender.  And again with the warming!) and massaged my neck and shoulders; there was contact with pressure points, pulling and maneuvering, and I was a limp noodle.  Once I was peeled from my toasty shell, the massage began.

I’d like to give you intimate details of the massage but it was a complete out of body experience and might’ve lasted minutes or days – couldn’t tell you.  I was so relaxed, somewhere betwixt and between being asleep, that I only remember being rubbed and touched so wonderfully I felt completely at peace.  And I forgot the dishes.  And I forgot the laundry.  I forgot the constant list that I write in my head every waking moment.  And I just was. Ninety minutes from the start we were through.  Kaylie was the quintessential massage therapist; speaking only enough to make me feel connected though never requiring constant dialogue.  She was firm and confident and though she probably tips the scales at 90 pounds, she worked all 5’11’’ of me like putty in her hands.  Once I pulled myself together and headed out the door, I let out a long sigh and reminded myself why every mother, nay every woman, deserves time to herself to indulge in something that makes her feel energized.  Women deplete their stores on a daily basis; Sego Lily wipes the slate clean, if for only ninety minutes, so that we can take off our robes, suit back up and face the world again; or at the very least, the laundry piles.  Woman, get thee to Sego Lily.