It’s day three of my “divorce” cruise and it hasn’t stopped raining since we boarded. Yesterday I played Bingo, my first experience at “dabbing” …
The day before, the spa staff told me they could make me look 10 years younger, which at 34 I found somewhat disturbing. Yep, I’ve drunk a lot more than I should have these past few months, OK years, and perhaps I’m not as fit as I could be, but really? When did 34 become old? When did I need to start thinking about the lines on my forehead, or how to reduce cellulite by 45 per cent?
I get that these people have and are just doing their job, but preying on insecurities I didn’t even know I had? And why the fuck would I want to be 24 again? When I was 24 I didn’t earn nearly as much money, I hadn’t seen nearly as much of the world or have anywhere near the life experience I do in my 30s. As to looking like I’m 24: I was carded in the bottle shop two days ago. To be asked for ID you need to look like you’re under 25 so either the bottle shop guy just wanted to know my birthday, to you know, send me all the flowers and stuff, or I actually don’t look my age anyway.
But do you know what? Today our stop at Hamilton Island was cancelled due to rough conditions and a shit-tonne of rain so I marched up to that spa and I booked myself two treatments. If I don’t come home looking like a pampered 14-year-old, we know these overpriced lotions and potions really are just a money-spinning time killer.
But when the alternative is napkin folding or paper flower making, I’ll choose body shaming.
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