Oprah says Hi

On November 1, I got on a plane and flew, first class, to Miraval Spa. Or, as it is informally known since she featured it on her show, Oprah's spa.

I spent four days getting rubbed, scrubbed and peeled and let me tell you, ladies, if you can find a spare weekend, and some spare change in the sofa cushions, it is worth it.

Totally Worth It.

I mean, it's November 14th and I just now have the strength to type this blog entry about it. My bones turned into jelly.

Miraval is very self-examining, and there are tons of classes about exploring your inner self and finding your inner courage and learning the art of mindfulness. I had every intention to go to those classes. I did. But somehow, I found laying at the pool, getting up only to get another frozen strawberry lemonade from the cabana, way more spiritually awakening.



I've never just lay by the pool all day. I now understand why people have these massive holes dug out of their backyards. It's not for the swimming. It's for the lounging.

Unfortunately, I did not see Oprah or my best friend Gayle King. The staff seemed a little put off by Oprah's free advertisement, actually. (I don't know how free the advertisement was, now that I think about it. For all I know she got paid - at least a free massage out of the deal - it better have been the 100 minute one). Several commented that it's been way busier ever since she had the spa on her show, and one mentioned that celebrities won't come anymore.



My first treatment was supposed to be a Thermal Stone Massage, but at the last minute I chickened out. The cold marble constricts the blood vessels and I was all paranoid about blood clots, even though I did sit in first class - did I mention that already? Anyway, I had plenty of leg room, in first class, but I have that pesky gene mutation that makes my irrational fear of deep vein thrombosis a reality. So we just did a hot stone. Terie, my masseuse, was hilarious - usually I don't talk at all during a massage. I try to get my money's worth and concentrate on relaxing my muscles. It's hard work! But I was chatty and Terie was hysterical and pretty soon we were cursing and laughing and probably pissing off the people in the rooms on either side of us but whatever - it was fun and I've learned that you don't hit it off with everyone every day, and when you do, you gotta make the most of it.



The next day I had an Emergen-C facial - get it? Emergen-C? Emergency? Hello, dialing 911 cuz I've got some dangerously giant pores ready to consume my entire face. It's a line of products that use Vitamin C and lemme tell you, the stuff works. I left looking better than I have in years - I actually looked in the mirror and saw my early 90s face - before the years of cigarette smoke and furrowed brows and pregnancy discoloration made it what it is today - clearly in need of an emergen-c. I bought 200 bucks worth of the stuff and though it makes my skin look better than before, when I used, uh, nothing - except soap (sometimes) - I can't re-create what that woman Laura did to me. Laura by the way, has grandkids in their 20s but looks no older than 40. Of course her kids were 12 when they had their babies, but still. Being in the facial service has its benefits - free product!

Then I had the Hamman scrub, which was this body scrub of coffee grounds, olive pits, and other edible stuff. It was awesome - she sprayed this orange mist stuff occasionally and the combo made me hungry. I washed it off in the adjoining shower, then she coated me in mud and wrapped me in warm sheets and blankets. While I baked, she gave me a scalp massage. Mmmmm. I showered again, then she rubbed this yummy smelling lotion into me. My skin was softer than a baby's tushie.



After that, I floated into the Quiet Room to wait for my Relaxation Massage, because, you know, I was really stressed out after than. The Quiet Room adjoins the spa's check-in and has 15 or so stuffed chaise lounges upholstered in rich chenille. Each one has a mocha brown chenille blanket draped diagonally across it, and are positioned to look out the wall of windows, over the pool, to the mountain skyline. There's a station for herbal tea and some reading materials, but I chose to just watch the color of the sky change from blue to pink. I did get in trouble the next day in the Quiet Room. Erin, one of my traveling companions, came in and we started talking in very hushed tones. Well, another guest decided we weren't being quiet enough in the Quiet Room, and took it upon herself to shush us up. Karma's a bitch, though, and when it was her turn to go for her treatment (a basic, run-of-the-mill pedicure) her assistant shouted her name, then did a little dance when Ice Queen rose from her chenille throne shouting, "Are you ready for FUN!" Hee hee.

My relaxation massage turned into a deep tissue when I told my masseuse, "Don't be afraid to use a lot of pressure." Note for future relaxation massages - never challenge a professional masseuse to use her muscles. She found knots in places where I wasn't even aware I had muscles - like my big toe, for instance. When she'd find one, she'd press down hard, and instruct me to press my body into it, just for that extra zing. I admit, though, my problem areas were problems no more after that. But man, I had to work to get there.



The next day, after sleeping in a cloud of down wrapped in 800-thread count sheets, I had the Ultimate Ayurvedic Treatment. First I got this Abhyanga massage which was fast, short strokes all over. It was different. Then there was this pressure point thing called Marma therapy and then hot oil was dripped on my third eye while wrapped in moist, hot towels. I didn't totally relax during this - I'm not sure if it's because it was different from anything I ever had or because the oil that was applied during the Marma treatment started oozing down my skin when I was wrapped all up in the towels, eliminating my ability to scratch the itchiness that was a result. But afterwards, my hair looked FANTASTIC. The key to shiny, bouncy hair - drip oil on your head for about 20 minutes. That should do it.

So then I showered all the oil off, went to lunch with the ladies, and went by the pool. Leesa decided she was too lazy to walk up the 10 stairs to the spa to get her massage and gave it to me. So never one to pass on free rubbing, I selflessly granted her that favor. That massage was relaxing, man. I had learned my lesson and this time did not tell her to rub deep. I then got some reflexology, which wasn't as relaxing as a regular foot rub would be. She pressed a point on the bottom of my foot, got this concerned look on her face, and asked, "Were you recently in a car accident?" Or, "Do you have problems with your liver?" Or, "How have your bowels been?" To the last one, I almost said, "They've been well. I mean, they were a little cranky after traveling, but they flew in first class so they really shouldn't complain." It felt like going to a bad psychic, except my feet got lotioned up, so better.



The next day was Sunday - it was time to leave. It was such a great time. My girls and I laughed and ate and commented on each other's skin and hair. My sister and I got to share a room again - something we haven't done since I was 6 years old. I missed my boys at home, but it was great to see them at the airport. Charlie insisted I sit in the back the whole way home.

Miraval. Just do it.