Spas are not for me. I don’t like massages. And sea weed gives me the heeby jeebies. Although the mud bath kind of sounds fun. But I would feel awkward in a room with other people. Because I would be naked. In mud. With other people. Yeah.
It had been their first luxury item. After ten years of buying only the necessities for themselves, and the luxuries for their children, they had finally bought their first luxury item. The spa bubbled and frothed, emitting an ambiance of luxury. The couple, husband and wife, friend and confidant, mother and father, sank into the water, which bubbled and frothed further with the splashing entrance of one, two, three children.
The husband and wife looked over their progeny at each other and smiled. They didn’t mind that they had to share their spa, after been given the exquisite luxury of being parents, nothing else quite compared.
I’m sitting here at this damn spa, waiting to sweat out my toxins, waiting to “release” all the tension, all the thoughts running around my hamster wheel of a brain, and all I can think is how I wish I had the courage to say something, to reach out, for once in my God awful life. I’ve been sheltered and cold, even now I can’t take the masseuse running hands on my shoulders because it just reminds me that I wish you would treat me like this, wish you would go back to caring about me. Now that it’s convenient, now that I’m realizing what I had in you, I am grasping at straws and clenching my teeth, and imagining you with a blonde, blue eyed, bikini belly girl, and I collapse like a folding chair under the weight of an elephant. I can’t breathe, I just cry and cry and cry when you’ve never made me sad before. I can admit I took you for granted. I can admit I should have treated you better. But I didn’t, and I’m sorry, and I am paying a hefty price for that luxury, I promise you. And the undercurrent of all this, the worst part, is that I am back to asking myself if I tricked myself into all this years ago. If I overthought it into something it wasn’t. Then there’s the loathing. I loathe myself for my fear of losing acceptance and fear of the magnitude of my own failure. The fear of losing something that maybe, I never really had.
SPA, aka the Specially Peeled Asparagus club, was now formed. All I had to do now was post the notice for the first meeting and get some club supplies. Monogrammed napkins? Dinosaur forks? Silver peelers? Organic, fresh-from-the-farmers’ market asparaguses? Wait… Asparagi? Asparagus?
Softly she tiptoes, nervously, with flushed cheeks and a determined smile, she approaches the door. Her courage drops, looking around she looks at all the other women, “Should I go through with this?” she thinks to herself, and knows that if she doesn’t do this now, she never will. She opens the door, unwraps the towel covering her body, and greets the massage boy with her beautiful naked self, willing for him to come for her, come to her, come love her.
place where you relax, get massages and go into the sauna. you can also get in the jacuzzi during the really cold days. rocks, white, massages, music, chill, calm.
a chicken once went to a spa and i like writing about chickens i dont really know why it just happens but anyways spas are interesting because they are really relaxing except you get naked when you go to a spa which is kind of uncomfortable and i dont really like it except there are spas in sims and i am thinking too much about this and im not really sure what the purpose of this website is and i think the time is almost out so spa is great.
Or do you call it jacuzzi? Or a hot tub? I usually use the latter, especially after a danged hard workout. That was a play on words for those of you keeping score at home. Me 1, youse 0.
We were supposed to go to the spa together. But, instead I’m sitting here, rubbing you back, and telling you that “It’s ok”. That “he still loves you”. But I know that’s a lie.
Spa. I should check if I can go to that spa Laurent bought me gift cards to. Even though, you know, I feel extra bad about myself and my body right now. But it could be cool anyway, some time off, etc. But yet again, but. But but but but but big BUTT
There’s something about the feel of warm paraffin that is impossible to describe. It’s reminiscent of childhood mud puddles and the soft adult decadence of expensive chocolates; silk and warmth and soothing smoothness all rolled into one.
a spa is where girls go to talk.
mud
cucumbers
that fresh smell of clean
almost better than laundry
its delicious
massages and waxes are fun too
but waxing isnt as relaxing
the day spa had no appoints aghh… what to do,… after spending a week long trip hiking in the blue mountains, I so separately needed to feel cleansed, renewed … like a non stinky woman again…
i dont really care much for spas… they seem like a lot of sillyness to me. its whatever. i like to take baths though. and i like showers. theyre good. i like rain better than showers. spas are silly though. they waist time because i can do my own nails and stuff. but i dont really want somebody else all up in my space making it weird. i would rather do it myself.
The spa day was SUPPOSED to be relaxing! They were supposed to be three friends on a nice day out with some cash from the folks. Instead…well, nobody likes a blood bath though they may like a mud bath. Was it really all that different? Who cared if it had…clotted a little? Oh well…She sighed as she looked around, wondering how it had all gone south so quickly.
Twice I saw the interior designer look up my towel; the main reason being I’d grabbed a hand towel, not a full sized towel, and so the small cotton square barely managed to cover what now sagged and rested on the hot and sticky wood. The spa’s pine scent brought me back to my office, our own sauna stuffed with buckets of egg-shell-white paint, and in the moment I hated more than anything my own rotten life. “I’m telling you,” he said again, he not bothering to lift his eyes from my crotch, “You’re cute. You could easily get a job selling apartments in the city.” I perked up. I was desperate not to go home. It was only my second day in New York, and already I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Next to me, Austin sat upright with his head at an awkward angle, small snorts seeping from his mouth. He was asleep. “Is there someone I can talk to while I’m here?” I asked. “Do you know of anybody?” The man smiled. “You free tonight? I’m having a party, I’m sure I have friends who could help you out.” “That would be amazing,” I said, oblivious to the fact the heat and probable alcohol poisoning hindered my cognizance. “Should I bring anything?” I asked. “Coke?” he said, and shrugged. We both laughed. A very long day began.
Spa. Hm, Okay. I have never ever been to a spa. I’ve never had a manicure or a pedicure or anything. They sound glamorous though and I would really like to get my nails and toenails done. It sounds fantastic. :)
I never understood why people go to spas. The most relaxing thing for me is to go out into the city and do something fun, wind and sand and sun in my face, then come back to the house and flop down in bed, still a little salty, and take a nap until I don’t know what time it is.
I had a dream that I got to spend a weekend at a spa with an all male staff. The eye candy was everywhere and I anticipated a wicked time. Then I woke up, damn.
The idea of eminent relaxation was ridiculous in my current state. I had only room in mind for panic and worry. I’d be homeless and shamed in three weeks if I didn’t get my ass in gear.
Here we were lounging, in the hot springs. It was awful, since the guys always got dropped off first the small pool would be stirred up and algae ridden by the time we arrived. Life is tough. (sarcastic on the last sentence)
Mmm, a spa retreat to relax the tendons I pulled stretching on the pillow-top bed with you. I need my back massaged; there was so much arching going on. Oh, yeah, my feet could use a good rub down from pointing at every orgasm. My knees may need a pumice stone to smoothe away the burns from the carpet.
I went to the spa after a particularly hard day. I had just recieved the news that on the next full moon I would change, and not like I usually do. I’m a lycanthrope, but this full moon I wolud stay a wolf. My mentor told me that after 250 as a werewolf they will permantly change.
The whole idea of a spa is ridiculous. I suppose I just don’t go to them enough to understand what a decent homemade bubble bath can’t cure. I want to curl up with someone in serenity, the living room our place of peace; one doesn’t need a spa to find comfort.
A relaxing place in which worries escape you and your body finds it’s much needed release. Soft lighting is accompanied by classical music in light tones which make inner peace obtainable.
i have no time for that, none at all, despite it’s urgent necessity. no pampering here, not for me. ‘spa’ makes it seem like i deserve the getaway, i earned it.
even if i did, no one would give me the time to collect my reward.
I have a hot tub, which is the first thing that I think of when I see “spa”. But also think of those therapeutic places women go and get massaged and beautified. Those massages look sooooooo good I’ve always wanted a professional massage.
Spa. A short word. Fun to pronounce. If you say it enough it no longer sounds like a word. Just a meaningless sound. I would love to spend more time at spas getting massages and stuff. Instead I found another path. Treating women to spa products in my time off.
Spas are not for me. I don’t like massages. And sea weed gives me the heeby jeebies. Although the mud bath kind of sounds fun. But I would feel awkward in a room with other people. Because I would be naked. In mud. With other people. Yeah.
Spa.
It had been their first luxury item. After ten years of buying only the necessities for themselves, and the luxuries for their children, they had finally bought their first luxury item. The spa bubbled and frothed, emitting an ambiance of luxury. The couple, husband and wife, friend and confidant, mother and father, sank into the water, which bubbled and frothed further with the splashing entrance of one, two, three children.
The husband and wife looked over their progeny at each other and smiled. They didn’t mind that they had to share their spa, after been given the exquisite luxury of being parents, nothing else quite compared.
I’m sitting here at this damn spa, waiting to sweat out my toxins, waiting to “release” all the tension, all the thoughts running around my hamster wheel of a brain, and all I can think is how I wish I had the courage to say something, to reach out, for once in my God awful life. I’ve been sheltered and cold, even now I can’t take the masseuse running hands on my shoulders because it just reminds me that I wish you would treat me like this, wish you would go back to caring about me. Now that it’s convenient, now that I’m realizing what I had in you, I am grasping at straws and clenching my teeth, and imagining you with a blonde, blue eyed, bikini belly girl, and I collapse like a folding chair under the weight of an elephant. I can’t breathe, I just cry and cry and cry when you’ve never made me sad before. I can admit I took you for granted. I can admit I should have treated you better. But I didn’t, and I’m sorry, and I am paying a hefty price for that luxury, I promise you. And the undercurrent of all this, the worst part, is that I am back to asking myself if I tricked myself into all this years ago. If I overthought it into something it wasn’t. Then there’s the loathing. I loathe myself for my fear of losing acceptance and fear of the magnitude of my own failure. The fear of losing something that maybe, I never really had.
SPA, aka the Specially Peeled Asparagus club, was now formed. All I had to do now was post the notice for the first meeting and get some club supplies. Monogrammed napkins? Dinosaur forks? Silver peelers? Organic, fresh-from-the-farmers’ market asparaguses? Wait… Asparagi? Asparagus?
Softly she tiptoes, nervously, with flushed cheeks and a determined smile, she approaches the door. Her courage drops, looking around she looks at all the other women, “Should I go through with this?” she thinks to herself, and knows that if she doesn’t do this now, she never will. She opens the door, unwraps the towel covering her body, and greets the massage boy with her beautiful naked self, willing for him to come for her, come to her, come love her.
place where you relax, get massages and go into the sauna. you can also get in the jacuzzi during the really cold days. rocks, white, massages, music, chill, calm.
a chicken once went to a spa and i like writing about chickens i dont really know why it just happens but anyways spas are interesting because they are really relaxing except you get naked when you go to a spa which is kind of uncomfortable and i dont really like it except there are spas in sims and i am thinking too much about this and im not really sure what the purpose of this website is and i think the time is almost out so spa is great.
I went to the spa because my pet monkey kicked me in the face and I wanted to cry in the silence and peacfulness.
Or do you call it jacuzzi? Or a hot tub? I usually use the latter, especially after a danged hard workout. That was a play on words for those of you keeping score at home. Me 1, youse 0.
facial, pedicure, relaxation, peace, awesome,
We were supposed to go to the spa together. But, instead I’m sitting here, rubbing you back, and telling you that “It’s ok”. That “he still loves you”. But I know that’s a lie.
Spa. I should check if I can go to that spa Laurent bought me gift cards to. Even though, you know, I feel extra bad about myself and my body right now. But it could be cool anyway, some time off, etc. But yet again, but. But but but but but big BUTT
There’s something about the feel of warm paraffin that is impossible to describe. It’s reminiscent of childhood mud puddles and the soft adult decadence of expensive chocolates; silk and warmth and soothing smoothness all rolled into one.
My brother went swim in the spa. But it was hungry and ate him. I never saw him again.
a spa is where girls go to talk.
mud
cucumbers
that fresh smell of clean
almost better than laundry
its delicious
massages and waxes are fun too
but waxing isnt as relaxing
She was just relaxed. Finally, she could take some time for herself and get pampered in a spa. What a long year it was.
the day spa had no appoints aghh… what to do,… after spending a week long trip hiking in the blue mountains, I so separately needed to feel cleansed, renewed … like a non stinky woman again…
i dont really care much for spas… they seem like a lot of sillyness to me. its whatever. i like to take baths though. and i like showers. theyre good. i like rain better than showers. spas are silly though. they waist time because i can do my own nails and stuff. but i dont really want somebody else all up in my space making it weird. i would rather do it myself.
The spa day was SUPPOSED to be relaxing! They were supposed to be three friends on a nice day out with some cash from the folks. Instead…well, nobody likes a blood bath though they may like a mud bath. Was it really all that different? Who cared if it had…clotted a little? Oh well…She sighed as she looked around, wondering how it had all gone south so quickly.
Twice I saw the interior designer look up my towel; the main reason being I’d grabbed a hand towel, not a full sized towel, and so the small cotton square barely managed to cover what now sagged and rested on the hot and sticky wood. The spa’s pine scent brought me back to my office, our own sauna stuffed with buckets of egg-shell-white paint, and in the moment I hated more than anything my own rotten life. “I’m telling you,” he said again, he not bothering to lift his eyes from my crotch, “You’re cute. You could easily get a job selling apartments in the city.” I perked up. I was desperate not to go home. It was only my second day in New York, and already I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Next to me, Austin sat upright with his head at an awkward angle, small snorts seeping from his mouth. He was asleep. “Is there someone I can talk to while I’m here?” I asked. “Do you know of anybody?” The man smiled. “You free tonight? I’m having a party, I’m sure I have friends who could help you out.” “That would be amazing,” I said, oblivious to the fact the heat and probable alcohol poisoning hindered my cognizance. “Should I bring anything?” I asked. “Coke?” he said, and shrugged. We both laughed. A very long day began.
Spa. Hm, Okay. I have never ever been to a spa. I’ve never had a manicure or a pedicure or anything. They sound glamorous though and I would really like to get my nails and toenails done. It sounds fantastic. :)
massages and pedicures. relaxing with soft plush robes and forgetting all the cares in the world. an escape from reality. solitude and reprieve.
I never understood why people go to spas. The most relaxing thing for me is to go out into the city and do something fun, wind and sand and sun in my face, then come back to the house and flop down in bed, still a little salty, and take a nap until I don’t know what time it is.
relax
massage
violet
the spa is a wonderful place to just relax.You can get a massage and just think about all the great things in life.
I had a dream that I got to spend a weekend at a spa with an all male staff. The eye candy was everywhere and I anticipated a wicked time. Then I woke up, damn.
god
The idea of eminent relaxation was ridiculous in my current state. I had only room in mind for panic and worry. I’d be homeless and shamed in three weeks if I didn’t get my ass in gear.
Here we were lounging, in the hot springs. It was awful, since the guys always got dropped off first the small pool would be stirred up and algae ridden by the time we arrived. Life is tough. (sarcastic on the last sentence)
Mmm, a spa retreat to relax the tendons I pulled stretching on the pillow-top bed with you. I need my back massaged; there was so much arching going on. Oh, yeah, my feet could use a good rub down from pointing at every orgasm. My knees may need a pumice stone to smoothe away the burns from the carpet.
I went to the spa after a particularly hard day. I had just recieved the news that on the next full moon I would change, and not like I usually do. I’m a lycanthrope, but this full moon I wolud stay a wolf. My mentor told me that after 250 as a werewolf they will permantly change.
Relaxing. Blue water. Misty air. Aromatic smells of incense. Chiming music.
I have never went to a spa. I want to, but Im to little.
The whole idea of a spa is ridiculous. I suppose I just don’t go to them enough to understand what a decent homemade bubble bath can’t cure. I want to curl up with someone in serenity, the living room our place of peace; one doesn’t need a spa to find comfort.
stones
blue
relax
cold
lavender
hair
soap
water
china
easy
mud
wind
one at time .. one in a million .. one in my life .. my love .
A relaxing place in which worries escape you and your body finds it’s much needed release. Soft lighting is accompanied by classical music in light tones which make inner peace obtainable.
i have no time for that, none at all, despite it’s urgent necessity. no pampering here, not for me. ‘spa’ makes it seem like i deserve the getaway, i earned it.
even if i did, no one would give me the time to collect my reward.
none at all.
I have a hot tub, which is the first thing that I think of when I see “spa”. But also think of those therapeutic places women go and get massaged and beautified. Those massages look sooooooo good I’ve always wanted a professional massage.
Spa. A short word. Fun to pronounce. If you say it enough it no longer sounds like a word. Just a meaningless sound. I would love to spend more time at spas getting massages and stuff. Instead I found another path. Treating women to spa products in my time off.