Aah. Spa. After three years of no breaks and somebody being on an extended business trip and somebody else up for the past month at night with illnesses and frequent ear infections, what could be more appealing?So, first belated lunch with the girls. Yum. One even got me some pink roses, which I had gotten for myself on Sunday, so now I have 36 pink roses on my table. Nice.So me and another friend arrive at the spa. I got it as a recommendation from another friend who I really like, but I'm a spa snob. When I walked in, I was not impressed. "Don't be such a bitch," I told myself.We changed in the changing room, consoled ourselves with the fact that the robes were nice, and waited. I got a water service before I got my massage. There I was, changing in my disposable panties, confronting the fact that someone other than my husband was going to have to witness the pendulousness of my post-baby body when the phone rang: "Hi, can you come over and do the eyebrows of this really important person even though you don't have your kit, will have to cut your spa day short and not really turn a profit because you have to buy your whole kit? But she's really important and this could lead to great things. Or not. Whatever, it's your choice."So there I am, naked, "relaxing" in the hydrotub weighing my options. And it occurs to me: if I'm going to be a freelance makeup artist and a writer and a parent, then I am never really, truly going to rest and I am going to be interupted all the time. It was then I fully grasped the concept of groundlessness that I have been trying to understand by listening to Pema Chodron for so long. In that moment, I did not fully surrender my body to the experience but I accepted the fact that resting once in three years is not acceptable. Plus, I had had enough of the tub after 10 minutes. Who wants to sit in a tub with jets propelling all over your body for 25 minutes? Not me. I mean unless it's the 70's and there's a bald fat cliche with gold chains sitting next to me with a glass of Boone's Strawberry Farm in one hand and my boob in the other. But I digress.The point is that the spa didn't take me away enough to relax. I gave the poor pedi girl 12 minutes to do my feet because I had to make it to my client. I am highly distractable because of my life and I need a spa to fully capture my attention, to take me away from a brow client. To serve myself before I serve others. So next time?Great Jones Spa, here I come. [...]