From Pampered to Death
Chapter One
How my best girlfriend, Paula, convinced me to take a yoga
class was beyond me. When she’d told me about this spa,
Pampered to Death, I’d envisioned something quite different.
A massage, of course … a glass of champagne … a girlfriend’s
brunch. And at the top of the list RELAXATION.
Instead, I now found myself attempting to perform a yoga pose I
couldn’t have done even pre-baby, while a stick-thin woman with the
height of an Amazon, stood at the head of the class telling us to take
the stretch just a bit deeper.
Was this supposed to feel like torture?
“Feel the burn,” the woman shouted excitedly.
Oh, I guess so.
“Breathe into the pose and feel yourself getting stronger,” she said.
“Go deep within.”
If I went any deeper, I wouldn’t be able to recover.
How embarrassing if I were suddenly to cramp up and crumple to
the floor. I imagined an ambulance pulling up to the spa and carting
me off because I pulled a hamstring.
No. I wasn’t going to let that happen.
I stayed in my comfortable lazy stretch to avoid injury and humili‐
ation. I glanced over at Paula, who was right beside me, looking like
she was some sort of Olympian.
Not going to lie. I thought I might actually strangle her by the end
of the day if I didn’t get some real down time.
Paula turned in my direction, and seemed completely at ease in the
bizarre one-legged king pigeon pose.
“Isn’t this great?” Paula asked, a huge smile on her face.
“Press your tailbone down and forward,” the instructor said.
“Breathe and feel the massage of your internal organs.”
“I’d rather have a real massage,” I grunted at Paula.
She snorted. “Relaxation is in the mind, Kate.”
“The knots in my neck and shoulders aren’t in my mind. They’re
from sleeping screwy while nursing an infant.”
Paula flashed me a sympathetic expression. She’d recently given birth
to a beautiful little girl and had a two-year-old son. She knew my pain.
“Honestly, I’d rather have stayed home with Laurie, than to
succumb to this new age version of so-called serenity,” I growled.
My little Laurie was five months old now, and she’d changed my
entire life’s focus, as children do. Currently Laurie and Paula’s two
little ones were being watched by my neighbor, Kenny. Kenny was a
young prodigy—only seventeen and already practically a professional
musician. He knew how to settle the kids down by serenading them
on the trombone. Apart from constantly having to feed him, which
was our standard form of payment—who knew a teenage boy could
eat me out of house and home?—he made for a great occasional sitter.
“Oh, come on. You know you are so glad to be out of that house,”
Paula said.
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“Not now, I’m not,” I said.
“Kate—” Paula started to chide.
“You promised me girl time and food. I’m pretty sure you
mentioned food and mimosas.”
“We can eat after class,” Paula said calmly, as the instructor took us
into a downward dog pose.
Okay, that stretch I could do.
“I was after some down time, not physical punishment,” I said to
Paula. “When do we get to relax?”
“I didn’t book the full day package, so no mani-pedi’s or face
masks today …” Paula said, “because I knew we’d want to have time to
eat.”
Basically, since finding out I was pregnant with Laurie, I’d been
pretty much famished. Now, since I was nursing, my appetite seemed
even larger, if that was possible. The same had happened with Paula—
but as she gracefully maneuvered into the firefly pose, balancing on
her arms, and straightening her legs in the air—it was hard to see
where she packed all the food I knew she consumed.
“But the yoga class does give us access to the hot tub and sauna,”
Paula said.
“That’s more I like it,” I said, jumping to my feet.
Paula grabbed my arm. “Not so fast. We have to finish the class.”
“You can finish,” I whispered. “I’ll wait for you in the hot tub.”
“No!” Paula moaned in a melodramatic tone that caused the
instructor to glance in our direction.
I hid my face from the Amazonian woman, so as not to encounter
her wrath, but I’m pretty sure she told me to shoosh.
“Fine,” I whispered to Paula. “I’ll sit here and breathe.”
“Shoosh,” I heard again, but this time it was from the young
woman in front of me.
You’ll understand someday, sweetheart, I thought to myself as I exam‐
ined the pretty young woman in leopard print yoga pants performing
a nearly perfect split.
Hmm. I got the impression that some people actually find yoga
relaxing.
I certainly was not one of those people.
When at last the instructor rang the little dismissal chime, I felt
like I was minutes away from collapsing. My legs trembled as I stood
and gathered up the yoga mat.
“Hot tub,” I groaned, and Paula giggled at me.
“Yes, hot tub,” she agreed.
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