Scrubbed and seen
Something mildly out of character but ultimately worth it.
**Before we dive in, a quick hello to the many new readers who found me through the Modern Love essay that was published over the weekend. I'm still pinching myself about how many people read it. I’m so glad you're here. Thank you for joining me in my little corner of the internet. It only felt right to kick things off with a story that involves nudity, a stranger with exfoliating gloves, and a surprising amount of personal growth.
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“There’s no shoes, clothing, or cell phones allowed in the spa,” the receptionist said, her voice very serious, as I stepped inside.
I’d been in that exact parking lot once before. Different reason, very different vibe. I had pulled into a numbered spot, texted it to a company, and waited for a man in a hazmat suit to approach the car window. He stuck a long swab up our noses and handed us a slip of paper with instructions on where to get our COVID test results. It wasn’t exactly a place I associated with relaxation.
But today, I figured had to be better than a nasal swab.
The receptionist gave me a tour. The spa was shaped like a circle, with various heated rooms lining the perimeter, each one warmed to a different temperature. A Himalayan salt room. A mud room. A cool room. A reading room. Temps ranged from 60 to 147 degrees.
“Visit a cold room after a hot one,” she suggested, “to tighten your skin.”
We stopped at the pools next. “Different temperatures,” she said. “Soak for at least thirty minutes in any of them before your scrub.” Then she left me to it.
I locked up my things and made my way to the rock room. Small space. Wood floors. A few sand-filled pillows scattered around. I lay on the floor and closed my eyes.
"This is what relaxing feels like. This is what relaxing feels like," I repeated to myself, as if chanting it could force my body to be still. I wasn’t sure if I was meditating or heading for a nap, but either way, I didn’t trust myself to stay conscious, so I got up and started room-hopping. A few minutes in each room, just enough to feel warm and loose, but not enough to fall asleep and start to drool.
At first, I was painfully aware of my body. I had been wearing a robe in the heated rooms, but to enter the pool area, I had to be completely naked. Every roll, every shift, every movement reminded me of how exposed I was. But after a while, I stopped noticing. Maybe it was the comfort of being surrounded by women of all ages and body types, or the quiet, shared understanding that no one cared what anyone looked like. We were all carrying our own insecurities. Or maybe I was just so tired from the life of small children that I no longer had the energy to be self-conscious.
By the time my number was called for the scrub, I sauntered over, uncovered, and felt mostly fine. Maybe just a flicker of self-consciousness. How quickly we adapt, if we let ourselves. I had nothing to wrap myself in anyway, and the woman calling me didn’t even blink. And to my relief, nothing in her eyes said she was seeing something she hadn’t seen before.
I lay down on the table. She poured warm water over me, then began to scrub using textured mitts. Dead skin rolled off in gray little noodles and collected on the plastic bed.
Instead of only thinking about my body, I felt… tenderized. Like a piece of meat being prepped. She lifted my arm, tilted my head, adjusted my leg ,handling me the way you might massage a chicken before it goes in the oven. Clinical. Efficient. Weirdly comforting.
I left the spa glowing. And not just because all my surface skin had been removed.
There’s something about being seen in your barest form, handled with complete neutrality, and walking out a little cleaner than when you walked in. Not emotionally cleaner. Not metaphorically cleaner. Just… literally. Smoother and rinsed.
And for now, I’ll take that kind of transformation, the quiet, physical kind. The kind that leaves you softer, stripped down, and just a little more at ease.
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Thanks again for being here. I’ll be back soon with another story. If you’ve ever wanted a glimpse into someone else’s life, needed a break from your own chaos, or have felt the quiet urge to write something down just to see what might come out, I hope this space inspires you. You’re in the right place.
Sounds wonderful!