There is a band of slippery plastic wrap around my ribcage that is terribly uncomfortable. And each time I reach up under my shirt to pull down the plastic that has creeped up- I pop a hole in it to make my situation worse. The situation I speak of is an essential oil body wrap party: post spray and wrap. Let's rewind 1.5 hours and I'll explain.
As I blissfully approach the hostess' front door, I have no clue as to what is coming my way. Hence the term, 'blissfully'.
I am out!
I have no children with me!
I'll be with my friends!
I did not know that would mean I'd feel like a plate of leftovers in my near future.
As each guests show up, we talk, we laugh. We are all in the blissfully unaware state.
As the teacher explains the benefits of a body wrap, I am nodding in agreement. Even after the part where she states that I will be measuring my body. Mmm hmm... yep, I can do that!
And then spraying oils directly on my skin, Sure, no prob Bob!
And then have a friend wrap that body part in plastic wrap. Uhh... I guess whatever works, I'm in!
After measuring spraying and wrapping, sit for at least an hour. Ahem. Well, oookay. I suppose so.
Upon agreeing to these terms, I found myself in a side room with a friend measuring my arms and tummy. Each number is secretly written on a folded piece of paper to be tucked away for my eyes only. Then, we sprayed each other's tummies (yikes! cold!) and spun around as we were being wrapped. It wasn't half bad-ish. Just a warning: when you spray slick oil in a bathroom, surfaces may become slippery. Like, deck of a boat in a tsunami, slippery. I made it out alive.
Following our wraps, we got to enjoy some yummy smoothies- standing up.
And wait for other guests to wrap- standing up.
After all the standing came my first mistake. Sitting.
As I sat on the couch to listen to more information about why this wrap was so fabulous, that fabulous wrap started to creep up. Slowly. Now imagine this. A slimy, oily mess under your shirt. The shirt is protected by two, possibly three turns of a roll of flimsy plastic. And the protective barrier is inching its way north. I can feel my rolls sigh relief as the wrap gradually rides up. I am jokingly kidding about it while frantically trying to pull the wrap down- which was my second mistake. Because like I said earlier, my fingers kept popping holes. Just one hole at a time, puncturing my hope along with the plastic wrap.
The hour finally came to an end. I peeled the wrap off in the kitchen, not even caring about the shirt anymore. I swear, I threw the wrap in the trash with all the force I could muster. But seriously, have you ever tried to THROW plastic wrap? It's like trying to hang up on someone in anger using a cordless telephone. With my happy face back on, I re-measured my waist. And what do you know? I lost 1.5 inches! That wasn't so bad...