Today I'm grateful
for my ability to relax.

I’m naked. Face down. A cloud of patchouli wafts in, and I know the massage therapist has arrived. Instead of relaxing, I’m thinking “Did I remember to fold my robe or did I just throw it in the corner like I do at home? Did I shave my legs? Do my heels look like parmesan cheese rinds?” But she starts to rub my back, and I begin to melt. She tells me my inner ch’i is blocked because my body is filled with toxins – what’s wrong with toxins? I love my toxins. I need at least two toxins to get out of bed in the morning. Then she goes in for the kill and says I should stop drinking alcohol. Get Dr Oz on the phone, he’s got some competition giving out medical advice, her name is Moonbeam and she works at Bliss spa. I almost got up and choked her with that red kabala string she had around her wrist.

To be fair, when I called for an appointment they asked if I want a male or female therapist. I said I wanted a burly, bald black man with a prison tattoo of a tear under his left eye. They didn’t think that was funny, so I should have known. Maybe there needs to be a day spa for people like me.

At Gratitude Cocktail fantasy spa, instead of cucumber yogurt facials, we’d have Nutella facials. Forget about $120.00 massages with ylang ylang oil, I’d offer a $9.99 rub down with taco grease. Instead of a quiet room where you wait for your name to be called as you nibble on apples and sip lemon water, how about a room where they blast Bon Jovi, serve jalapeno poppers and unlimited glasses of Two Buck Chuck? I think a drunken massage would be the most relaxing spa treatment ever, as long as they don’t ask me to turn over because I could flop face first onto the floor.

I don’t need to go to an expensive spa to relax, because sometimes those places make me uncomfortable. I don’t fit in -- I’m too chubby and let’s be honest, I can’t really afford it. I’m grateful I know how to relax on my own. I slide into a bubble bath, sip a glass of red, chomp on some chocolate covered bacon and watch the Biggest Looser marathon. If I want to unwind, I don’t need to unblock my ch’i, I just need to uncork a bottle of wine.

Thanks why I’m grateful for my ability to relax. 




Forget about rainbows and unicorns, I’m grateful for double martinis, single men and pretty much anything covered in chocolate or cheese. This gratitude journal is anonymous because the stuff that tends to fall out of my head and land on the page makes HR departments cringe -- and guys lose my number.
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