I couldn’t get naked fast enough

The title? That’s the end of the story. Now, let’s start at the beginning.

My Memorial Day weekend was among the top-most-fun weekends ever! My friend Jenn from Denver, who I had not seen for probably 6 years, came to visit. I suppose that there was potential for awkwardness, given how long it had been since we had seen each other and how far I’ve fallen into moral sewage, but luckily Jenn is right there with me. :) Our friendship was instantly rekindled, and we had such a blast.

The theme of the weekend was LADY DATE 2007, and we milked it for all it was worth. The parking gods were with us; we got rock-star parking everywhere that we went. We wore dresses on 3 separate occasions, went out for amazing food, shopped til we dropped, rode a ferry in the sunshine, took pictures, went to the Woodinville wineries, and even watched a Mandy Moore movie while eating ice cream and potato chips. And brie. And cookies. It was pure bliss! When you are single, you must celebrate it, because it truly is such a gift.

On Friday, Jenn emerged from the dressing room at Anthropologie in a kelly green dress. “Oh no,” I said. “I KNOW!” she replied. And then we had the fateful moment where we freaked out and twirled around, simultaneously delighted and horrified at 1) how perfect the dress was, and 2) how much money she now HAD to spend because the dress was just THAT great. She bought it because she is worth it. And apparently this message is brought to you by L’Oreal Paris.

It reminds me of my friend Sarah who, after ending her engagement and then watching her ex-fiance wed another, pawned all the jewelry from various ex-boyfriends and bought herself a diamond necklace. Simply rad.

I bought myself roses last week, which is something that I swore that I would never do. I can buy myself other flowers, but roses are off-limits, I thought. Roses should only come from a guy, right? Oh pshaw. Life does not always turn out the way that you plan, and when it doesn’t, you have to be ready to break the rules.

And so yesterday, when I was staring at my computer screen with a headache and a backache and a brain ache, I picked up the phone and called the number on the coupon. I scheduled my appointment, showed up a few hours later, charged the Visa (because this was an absolute necessity), and entered the darkened room of the masseuse.

And the end of the story? You already know.