Moaning loudly while getting a pedicure at a swanky spa is, apparently, frowned upon.
Granted, I know this on some level. I’m not a total idiot.
But after a great week of training that left my calves and ankles feeling like I had auditioned for Swan Lake or something, I absolutely could not control myself when Olga got in there for the massage portion of this weekend’s primping festivities.
I suppose the three mimosas made me a bit more relaxed than usual, but the staff and guests seemed to be in agreement that my reaction was a bit over the top.
I’ll remember that for next time. As for this time, at least I held back from whimpering “don’t stop, don’t stop” right when she got to the good part.