Yesterday, I got a massage at the Wellness Institute. I mention the name because they’re having a promotion this month and massages and facials aren’t cheap, but they’re cheaper, or edging toward a price they should be in the first place.

Wait. I interrupt this post to bring you Cheryl Burke.
I’m watching her on Good Morning America promote her new ab workout DVD. Um. She doesn’t have abs. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with her body, but if you’re going to buy a DVD specifically targetting a certain area, you’d think you’d want an example of what your hard work would do. It would be like buying Buns of Steel led by this guy. Well, not quite the same.

Back to the massage. I haven’t told my husband about it. Even though I had a gift certificate I feel guilty about any kind of pampering while he’s tolling away in the office. I’m having a contributer complex, like I don’t contribute enough. I just spend and consume and even though I’m working on a novel I don’t get paid for the hours I put in. In fact, if I’m going to be a pessimist about it I could very well write every day and not sell another book ever again (especially with the way the publishing industry is looking now.) So, how do I go about pampering myself? Mani/pedis, hair salons, massages, pilates, etc. How do I do these things without the guilt.
All I’ve come up with are four weak justifications:

–Basic maintenance. I need to look presentable after all. I don’t want to embarrass my family with split ends and abs of sorrow.
–Health. A massage is better than therapy any day. Yoga, pilates and acupuncture, too. Good for stress, blood pressure, immune system, etc. Insurance really needs to cover these things, and until it does, well, I’m going to keep self-medicating.
–Community. I could very well go from 8-3 without uttering a single word. Pampering is a way of getting out in my community (though I don’t like when a masseuse or hair stylist tries to have a conversation with me, but that’s understandable.)
–Economy. I’m helping the economy. I’m single-handedly stimulating it and what not.
And most importantly…
–Mothering. I’m a better mother with good hair and a glass of wine. I’m a better mother when I can do hand stands with my child (thanks to yoga). I’m a better mother when I can look at other moms and say to myself, “At least I don’t have a muffin top coming out of mom jeans.” I’m a better mother at a spa. In Napa, say, or somewhere far away where no one can hear me yell.

That’s all I’ve got.
Guilt sucks. You can always help me alleviate this pain by buying my book then you, too, can stimulate the economy, help me become a “contributer”, and most importantly, help me maintain my brows and bikini line.

Bonus Material:
Thanks and No Thanks
Stray Questions
Motherhood: A Gateway to Drunktown