MY TRIP TO THE KOREAN MIKVEH

A couple of weeks ago, I experienced a Spa Night like no other.... In need of a night of relaxation and quiet time, I decided I'd check out a popular Korean spa here in town. Many of my friends have been raaaaaaving about it forever... "You have to try the scrub! Get the scrub! You'll looooove the scrub!"

According to the menu, my "aged skin cells" would be "sloughed away using a traditional Korean technique." Considering that I'm gonna be 40... someday... (she says a la Sally Albright), I had to jump at this $25 opportunity. Let's shed some mother effin old skin, people. I'm in. AND, while we're at it, I thought, let's take it a step further and splurge on a $40 mini massage replete with an oil and honey rubdown,  a cucumber mask and milky body rinse. Done and done.

Excited for my night of bliss, I invited my boyfriend's sister KR to join.... 

With children bed and accounted for, we headed out to the other side of town... Upon entrance, I think both of us were in shock to see a spa menu entirely in Korean, but on the other side of the lobby, a full display of Bumble & Bumble products. Any place that believes in the power of DeFrizz and Brilliantine is all right with me.  I was ready to get my scrub on. 

Look, full disclosure, I knew it wasn't going to be Ojai Valley Inn & Spa, but I guess I was wasn't completely prepared for what I was about to experience....

We put our stuff into the lockers, get into our robe, we carry our towels (which, oh, were maybe a little bit bigger than a wash cloth) and head into the spa room.... And there it was....

Or shall, I say... There they were. 

Vaginas. Everywhere. Like every.where.

Let me back up: I am hardly modest. I am not the girl to cover up in a dressing room when the store clerk, or anyone for that matter walks in and I'm hardly the girl at the spa to walk in to a sauna with a bathing suit on. BUT, I was not expecting 1) that the treatment tables were in the middle of the sauna room, thereby exposing body parts of the woman amidst treatment and 2) I wasn't expecting that the massage therapists, if you will, would be wearing a bra and underwear. Yes. You heard me. A bra and underwear. 

Now for those of you that might have gotten here by accident (thanks to the usage of some very graphic words), let me direct you elsewhere... because what I saw was hardly sexy or kinky. It was just different. And I knew as soon as I was directed to a table, told forcefully to lay down and then basically drenched with a bucket of water (which might I add, did feel oddly wonderful) that this wasn't going to be the "lovely" white robe, lavender smelling, quiet room waiting, spa experience that I was used to.

For the next hour, a middle aged Korean woman scrubbed the bejesus out of my skin from head to toe, and everything in between. No. For reals. I'm not gonna lie: It wasn't pleasant. It kinda hurt. After the scrub came my "mini massage." The same woman used what I think was oil and honey as the lubricant and began her work. Let's just say that with each and every movement, I was wondering what I had done to piss her off. Why is she so mad at my hair??? 

At this point, I knew I wasn't going to be getting that relaxing, doze-off, wake up drooling kind of massage, but I went with it. I couldn't remember if this was something I learned in yoga or in acting school (that NYU Tisch School of Arts clearly paid off), but with each and every shove (because that's what it felt like), I set an intention. She jabs at my neck: That's for stress. She bangs on my head (no really, she kind of punched me in the forehead): That's for worrying.  She pushed on my belly: That's for over indulging....

It became clear: I was at a Korean Mikveh. I needed to this monthly!

Essentially, with each jarring motion and touch, I released and let go of something. I was cleansing. Or at least I told myself that's what I was doing.

At the end of the assault, er massage, she slathered me with warm milk and then sent me to the showers. When I came out, I'm telling you, my skin was GLOWING. Soft and smooth would be an understatement- I was silky. I looked in the mirror expecting to be red, raised and blotchy from the scrub and the abuse that seemed to follow. But instead, I looked FRESH. I looked like how I DREAM of looking without makeup. 

Post scrub/ beat down, we spent several minutes relaxing in the heated Himalayan salt room (I think thats what it was) and then laying down on a blanket on a warmed jade floor....

Next thing I knew, it was 10pm and we were being kicked out… and I didn't want to leave. I was soooooo relaxed. 

Is this like Stockholm Syndrome???

I'm in.

WINE VS. SLEEP

As someone dedicated to hypochondria and overall "shpilkes," I'm pretty hardcore when it comes to popping pills. That is, I DON'T like to take medicine of any kind unless I have to. I have this irrational fear about mixing medication with just about anything: wine, coffee, Pink Berry... No joke, I have called a doctor before to ask if it was okay to take Advil with Diet Coke. (What if just one time, my body couldn't handle the ibuprofen, caffeine and NutraSweet combination, and POOF, I die?! This is a valid concern!)

I think one of the scariest things about being a single mom is feeling like you can't get sick-- you always have to be in control and the one in charge. So, I especially get nervous when I get sick (or have an itchy leg... ) and need to take something that could potentially, though probably not, make me drowsy when I'm alone with Jonah. God forbid he wakes up at night (which he almost always does lately), and I'm in a Tums induced coma?!

Anyway, herein lies the issue: I have not been sleeping well at all. I'm exhausted. I need a GOOD, solid night of sleep. I ALSO, really need to relax and reconnect with friends and would absolutely benefit from a lovely glass of Pinot Noir or two. Jonah will be sleeping at his dad's.

It's one thing to mix a Motrin with orange juice, it's another to pop a Lunesta with chardonnay. Uh, uh. No, NO.

So the question is: What do I need more? Wine or sleep? What do YOU need more of? Has there ever been a time when you've mixed? I'm even more curious about this: Have you ever OR would you ever take a sleeping pill to help you sleep when children are present (sleeping)?

One thing is for sure on my end: unless there was another coherent adult present (and even then, I would be nervous about doing this), I don't think I could take a medication that might potentially keep me from having to pick up J's Pillow Pet off the floor 3:45 am or any other mothering matter. In fact, I'm pretty sure on the Ambien warning label it says: Do not mix with goldfish, toothbrush battles, preschool drop off, or dirty lunchboxes...

Speaking of zoning out... wouldn't a day at the spa be amazing?!

Well, now through February 28th, my friends at Red Tricycle are giving away a luxury spa treatment to Burke Williams!

• Simply go to http://redtri.com/newsletter-signup and sign up for Red Tricycle
• Enter "Perfectly Disheveled" in the Referred By box
• A random winner will be selected from all entries. If one of my referrals win, I'll also win a spa treatment!

Now THAT is a win win situation. (And, a night that neither pills nor wine will be necessary to induce sleep!)

OPEN LETTERS TO LOUD NEIGHBORS, "NO STRINGS ATTACHED," LADY GAGA AND MORE...

Dear Neighbors,

I'm starting to think you are covert spies and/or are running from the law, because shredding papers at 3:51am is just plain shady. Btw, does your cat wear heels?

Love,

Me

Dear Lady Gaga,

Congratulations. You have a new fan: Me. You can thank my 3 year old son for enjoying how "koo koo" you are and loving "Telephone." He... er, we're hooked.

Love,

Me

Dear Neighborhood Dog,

I can't blame you because you'd poop just about anywhere if you could, so if you could please pass this kind letter along to your owner, that'd be swell. Tell him this: Los Angeles is a real big city, would you mind taking your smushy, stinky, white- turded dog in for a bowel check-up? Something is just not right. OH, and if you would have your eyes checked out too, that'd be great. The last time I checked, my lawn was not meant to be a poo cemetery.

Love,

Me

Dear "No Strings Attached" Producers,

Cute concept... "friendship with benefits." But can we get real for one sec? a) Why are romantic comedies these days always about a gorgeous, successful guy head over heels for a gorgeous, successful girl who's too caught up in her life to want to be anything more than friends? I call BULLSHIT. In my life, I have yet to see that happen to anyone I know. Isn't always the opposite? And b) the tag line on the billboard: "Can Sex Friends Stay Best Friends." Yah. Um, okaaay. I'm no relationship expert, clearly, but isn't it much harder to stay "Sex Friends" when you're comfortable as "best friends?" Clearly Ashton Kutcher and Demi Moore don't have a lot of ice cream and "The Office" reruns in bed nights.

Love,

Me

Dear Pretzel Stick,

Yes, it's a "carb free" day. But would you rather get stale and rot? Deal with it.

Love,

Me

Dear Massage Therapist,

Your hands were miracle workers and you gave one of the best massages I ever had this weekend. However, might I suggest that the next time you lean in to knead out a knot in someone's shoulder's, you make sure their hand isn't accidentally cupping your nuts as they fade into blissdom? Talk about slippage...

Love,

Me

Dear Neighbors,

Oh, I forgot to ask: Do you own a drawer factory up there? Please find what you're looking for and move on.

Love,

Me

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