I'm not usually a tactile person. I'm not a hugger (except for the babies and LH), I won't come in your personal space (unless you're on a train with me - then watch out :p), I find kissing friends and relatives always uncomfortable and often miss in my haste to get it over and done with. My idea of personal hell is a pedicure/foot massage because someone would be touching my feet.
I think part of it aside from the weird social norms of kissing people you don't really want to kiss, is that I am incredibly ticklish. Back massages have to be exactly the right depth for me otherwise I start spasming with laughter. If LH tries to run his hand along my belly then I double over; if he tries to do that "feathery stroke-y" thing over my face and neck then I start squirming and have to suppress giggles. My skin just seems to be hyperaware. I'm always cognizant of anything touching or brushing my skin, and the lightest touch can send me into a sensorial spin. So usually I'm not exactly thrilled with anything that has to do with me requiring to be touched.
Today though was what I dubbed in my diary "appointment day". After dropping the girls off at kindy I first dropped in to my favourite waxing salon. The first time I went in there I was squirming with more embarrassment than I had going into the nearby sex shop to buy a friend a novelty blow up doll for his 21st. These days though I can head on in without feeling the need to don large novelty glasses and Mata Hari-esque disguises. I was thrilled to note that my favourite therapist was looking after me today, and we quickly got down to business - her leaving me with the attractive paper undergarments that they use to assist the process and me thinking to myself about how bizarre it is to lie on a bed half naked listening to Jack Johnson in a room that is attractively scented with citrus. Got down to business relatively quickly while having a lovely polite conversation.
There is something in having your legs akimbo and being in some small amount of pain while chatting away that is beyond bizarre. The only thing that comes close is childbirth, but the results are not quite comparable... I've never needed a frozen water filled condom after a wax. Within a short period of time though I was completely relaxed. There's something about the way warm wax feels being spread on your skin that is endlessly soothing, even with the flipside.
Got done in record amount of time and after admiring results in the mirror (look it's my blog, no one's making you read :p) and slathering on the mango scented product headed off to the hairdressers. Whereby after amusing myself with the hydraulic chair for a while I was taken over to a sink to have my hair washed.
I've never been fond of the hair wash ritual. It's someone touching my head and the "massage" thing that they're all trained to do after invariably makes me squirm and wish it would all just be over soon as I lie back and think of England. But today, maybe because it was quiet, or maybe because she was just forgetful, the hairwashing girl washed my hair twice, and by the second time I was just zonked and couldn't move. Sensation was just incredible - kind of like it must feel when a baby is patted off to sleep. Then she started on the head massage and I DID actually fall asleep it was so good. When it was over I had melted into the chair and they had to scrape me off to take me over to get my hair cut.
There is something pretty cool about getting your haircut as well - just ask the Elfling who cannot stop herself. Watching big thick chunks of healthy hair just fall into your lap is very therapeutic somehow. Metaphors about cutting through the jungle to reach the hidden castle abound. And because I was in a relaxed mood still from the head massage when she offered to blow me (with the hairdryer you perverts!) I took her up on her ridiculously over priced offer. I love having my hair brushed, and having my hair brushed while pouring hot air all over a nicely desensitised scalp is just tinglingly good.
By the time I walked out I was almost incoherent. Smooth shiny hair, smooth shiny... well let's not go there. And on my awy to the car I passed the Body Shop - which I love to browse when I don't have to worry about the Elfling and Monkey "sampling" the body butter display. Being as Wednesday mornings are pretty quiet in the retail sector I was ambushed as soon as I went in, and when I was offered a makeup trial I decided to go with the flow as the girl selected "colours" for me...
And then applied them with this silky brush over my face. Now I've already said that I'm not into the whole feathery stroke-y thing, but being in a state of complete sensory overload already, feeling this brush across my face was just incredibly good. My eyes closed just thinking about sensation. She even brushed over my eyelids which I've mentioned before is one of those spots for me that instantly renders me docile like a cat getting scratched behind its ears. Bonus was, by the end of it I had new sleek hair, lovely make up and a body that felt like a puddle of goo.
To top off a perfect day I had lunch with a friend, tried on some clothes (size 12, all off the rack, all fitted perfectly) and spent the afternoon under my doona having a nap stretched out between soft and snuggly sheets.
I'm about to go to bed with Mr Darcy and cannot think of any way this day could possibly get any better. Well unless the terrible twosome decide that tonight's the night that they will not only both sleep through but past dawn... here's hoping.