Jamaica Mistake?

A couple of blog entries ago, I casually alluded to an “interesting” incident at the hands of a Jamaican spa esthetician. Since I know you’ve been impatiently checking my blog multiple times per day, waiting with bated breath for the full story (ha!), let me not keep you waiting any longer…

As I mentioned, we stayed in an all-inclusive resort near Montego Bay which featured a full-service spa. (You'll ponder the real meaning of "full-service" in just a moment.) Special K and I decided that we should take full advantage of our mini-vacation and after perusing the extensive menu of facials, massages and scrubs, we booked ourselves for a full body scrub and wrap.

The next day, we showed up at the spa at our appointed time and were graciously shown into a room with two massage beds. Jennifer, the lead esthetician, was a pleasant, friendly Jamaican woman, stout and round in her white spa pant suit. Before she and her colleage, Claudette, quietly slipped out of the room to allow us to get undressed, she handed me a tiny thong made out of paper and elastic and instructed me to put it on. Special K stifled a laugh and when they left the room, he raised an eyebrow and said "Now, THAT is sexy!"

I rolled my eyes, donned the paper underwear, and slid under my miniscule towel just as Jennifer and Claudette reappeared. The scrub progressed from the treatment room where we started, to an outdoor (but enclosed) shower where we had to rinse the scrub particles off, into the steam room, back to the treatment room where we were slathered in some sort of seaweed-based compound, wrapped up tightly like giant burritos and then left to contemplate our suddenly itchy noses in silence for about 20 minutes. Finally, we were unwrapped, herded off to the outdoor shower again to get rid of the seaweed dressing and then back to the treatment room for one last scrub. Quite the gauntlet for what was supposed to be a relaxing massage and body scrub.

While we were in the steam room, Jennifer poked her head in to check on us and when she saw me with my towel wrapped around my chest and Special K with his wrapped around his waist, she said "You need to take off the towels to get the full benefit". We nodded and said ok, and then waited for her to leave and close the steam room door. But she didn't leave. No, she stood there, arms folded across an ample chest and looked at us expectantly while she waited for us to drop the towels. "Now." she said. Obediently, we unwound ourselves from our towels and finally satisfied, Jennifer disappeared.

Now, I'm not a spa rookie by any means, and I have experienced a number of different treatments, but I will admit that my cultural blinders have made me somewhat accustomed to an Amercian level of modesty and so when Jennifer pulled my towel aside (completely aside, not just strategically folded over to reveal the side of a bare thigh) during my scrub, I was momentarily surprised. But not nearly as surprised as I was when she ordered me to roll over onto my back and she did not bother to replace the towel. There I was in all my glory (paper underpants included) and Special K was blissfully unaware as he lay on the table next to me, eyes closed and his towel still snugly in place.

Let's just say that more of me was exfoliated that day than really needed to be.