There’s an old Irish proverb – something about how you should work as if you don’t need the money, love as if you’ve never been hurt, dance as if nobody’s watching. I think there’s much to be said for that sort of free-spirited bravado. But here’s the thing: I do need the money, I have been hurt, and I won’t dance – don’t ask me! I have five left feet that point backwards.
For those moments when it’s so tremendously tempting to draw the curtains, spoon out the cookie paste and rent every mindless romantic-comedy I was too embarrassed to see at the cinema, I have written a permission slip to get me out of “grown up” life and more. A permission slip is a magical thing. It got me out of Standard Five PT Class, why shouldn’t it work now.
To Whom It May Concern:
I have been ridiculously wonderful for the last 16 days in a row, and now she needs to eat buttered popcorn in her underwear. Please do not phone, e-mail or make eye contact with her under any circumstances. You may approach only for purposes of foot massage (giving, not receiving) or to wonder aloud how she got so thin. Note to anyone currently sharing a home with me: In the event you happen to catch on fire, be sure to drop and roll. Do not waste precious time attempting to smother the flames by wrapping yourself in a blanket, as the blankets will all be in use – and possibly covered in a light dusting of popcorn. As for any other health crisis that might arise during my time-out: You will find Dispirin in the bathroom, Band-Aids in the cabinet and detailed instructions for giving yourself the Heimlich manoeuvre under the cutlery tray (2nd drawer from the top), you’ll also find the phone number for the poison control hotline (which my housemate quietly stationed there the first time she tasted my roast chicken.)
It’s no secret that it’s not pretty out there, it’s incredibly unsettling to know that people no longer work like dogs to get ahead, they work like dogs just to stay where they are. Food prices are soaring, the housing market is plummeting, the middle class is disappearing, the climate is changing, and Vanilla Ice is touring. This is all the more reason to keep a soothing thought or two close at hand.
Well, I handed in my permission slip at work and found my soothing experience at Octavias Sensorium Day Spa at Emperor’s Palace. And what an experience it was. I started off with a tour of the Roman-esque Spa, and suddenly realised that I’m, in fact, no longer in Joburg. The décor and ambience makes you start to wonder when a half dressed Benicio Del Toro lookalike will start to feed you grapes and fan you with banana leaves.
My first treatment was a private one – an exfoliation and mud rub in the Rasul Chamber (better than any steam room.) I climbed into the tranquil chamber and applied all the aroma therapeutic scented products presented to me in gorgeous bowls. As I sat back, relaxed, I began to wonder why on earth I never took time out to do this before. I imagined myself returning voice mails saying “Sorry I missed your call; I was in a luxurious steam room, covered in mud, followed by soft sprinkles of water delicately washing over me as if I was sitting in a warm tropical rain”.
After the Rasul Chamber I took the opportunity to replenish my body with a glass of cold water and a warm swim in the Roman Bath furiously bubbling away. As I floated in ecstasy, I could have sworn I caught a glimpse of Benicio, evidently it turned out to be a pot plant.
My second treatment was the Anti-Cellulite, Firming & Contouring Body Wrap by Patricia Clark. They say you can lose up to 18cm in just one treatment, I lost 16cm! This treatment was by far my favourite, not only do you lose centimetres and water retention; it also includes a hand, foot and head massage. Not to my therapist’s surprise, I fell asleep for the full hour.
This luxurious world-class spa will indulge you beyond your expectations. Octavias Sensorium Day Spa is a haven where the physical, the mental and the spiritual are equally cared for.
Follow the links alongside for more info.