If you're thinking about a trip to Asia, and you're wondering if you should lose weight before you go? The answer is yes.
People in this part of the world are tiny.
Like, very tiny.
Maybe 5 feet tall.
Maybe 90 pounds.
When you book a 120 minute spa treatment here, (one that includes a full body scrub, a wrap, and a deep tissue oil massage) they are unprepared for the size of a large North American's ass.
Tonight, I was asked to undress and put 'these on'. They were paper bikini briefs, size extra small. I ripped the first pair, just pulling the up. I ripped the second pair as well. The third pair made it to my thighs.
"Is OK?" she asked.
"Not. Not OK." I replied, giving her a glimpse of way too much flesh.
She shrugged. Then pointed to the table.
I was so embarrassed. LIKE BEYOND embarrassed.
I motioned a face up or face down question, and she indicated ass up.
Those paper panties didn't cover a thing. They were only hovering near the top of my thighs and I could barely breathe. So ashamed. Mortified. Sad. She put a towel over me, then immediately folded it back so my left leg and cheek were exposed.
I could not relax. I could not let it go. I could not get past myself. I felt so ugly and so exposed.
I fought tears for the entire 13 minute scrub.
She led me to the shower to wash off, then handed me another pair to put on.
I stood in that little shower room and cried. If the first three pairs were hard to pull up, this fourth pair was an engineering nightmare. Paper and damp skin are not best friends.
What was the point? Why was I bothering? My entire body was a wound tight and I just wanted to walk out of there. Go back to my room. Pretend this never happened.
I sucked it up like a buttercup though, and went back to the table for the wrap. As I lay there, dying a million figurative deaths, I talked to God. About this country. It's people. The history. The temples. The wars. The starving dogs. The begging children. My fat ass. Her hands. Her memory - please let this night be erased from her mind. Tomorrow's flight. My kids. My mom. The wedding. Friends. My fat ass. My bangs. Her hands there. And there. And the air conditioning. And I started to cry again.
It really was too much.
She wrapped me in plastic then told me to sleep for 5 minutes. Or something. Her english was non-existent and my ears were not hearing anything beyond my internal voice which just wouldn't shut up about losing weight and exercising.
After another shower, it was time for the massage. I'd had one a few nights ago, and it was the best massage of my life. They gave us extra, extra large roomy pajamas (both tops and bottoms) and did did the massage on top of our pj's.
I was expecting that again.
Instead she handed me another pair of those bloody black panties.
I put them on, angry at myself and angry that there were no alternative options. Everytime I tried to pull them up I felt like absolute shit. I wanted to slither back to my room. Why was this not funny? How come I couldn't laugh at the stupidity of it all? Why was I not coping? What was the point of having a two hour spa treatment if I was going to be wound up tighter than a drum?
The massage was not gentle. She said she had "strong hands, work hard."
98% of my body was punished.
I took it, believing it was good for me.
Those were the longest 120 minutes of my life.
"Is your skin all soft? Didn't that just fly by? Did you fall asleep? Wasn't that awesome? Was your door open the whole time? What scent did you choose for the massage oil? That was incredible, wasn't it?"
Sue loved every second of it.
I'm happy for her.
Three things I'm thankful for:
1. I had 6 fears coming into this adventure.
Every. Single. One. of them has come to pass.
And I survived.
2. Sue's patience.
3. Underwear that fits.