PLEASE DON’T TALK TO ME

For my birthday this week, I was treated to a day at a lush spa retreat.

At check-in, they handed me the usual health and information form.

Any health issues? ❌No, thank God.

Massage pressure preference? Light. Medium. Firm? ✅Medium, obviously.

I would choose light, but I cannot pay good money for somebody to essentially stroke my back. Naaa fam. Press something, please.

Firm, however? Absolutely not. I also cannot pay for pain. That reminds me of an Albanian massage situation, but that’s Mbōk for another day. 😭

Next question.

Interaction preference? Quiet or chat?

I actually laughed because QUIET. Obviously!

The longer the treatment, the less painful it is and the less anybody speaks to me, the happier I am.

My ambition during any beauty or spa treatment is very simple: nap, float away on a small cloud, or at the very least hear my own thoughts. I definitely do not need another voice joining them.

That has always been my preference. Except my last two experiences have been rather intriguing.

First, my lash tech. My first appointment with her was nearly two hours of proper banter. And I mean PROPER banter, as though we’d known each other for years.

We talked about everything. I loved her questions. I loved her responses.

At some point I genuinely couldn’t wait for the appointment to finish so I could open my eyes and finally see the face belonging to the voice I’d been gisting with for almost two hours. 😂

Thankfully, my lashes were excellent because that meant I could go back.

And here’s the funny bit, this woman is LOUD.

Not obnoxiously loud. She just has one of those naturally projecting voices. And it’s a salon, not a spa, so there is music playing, other people talking, sun bedders, hair dryers going…

Basically, think trying-to-have-a-conversation-in-a-British-pub-on-Friday-night situation. Yet somehow, I loved it.

My next appointment was even more wholesome. She remembered EVERYTHING.

I actually wanted to look around for a secret notebook or recording device.

“So what happened with…?” “And did you eventually…?” “What did so-and-so say?”

Aunty??? 😭 You remember the gist we gisted?!

Not kidding, this woman and I would be besties in another life. We just gel.

Then there was a masseuse I visited in Chelmsford this summer. She was the opposite. Very softly spoken.

But she talked.

Initially, I remember lying there thinking… “When will I ever rest? Hang on. I’m paying for this. Can I actually tell her I want to sleep?”

Except…the conversation turned out to be better than some of the physio appointments I’ve paid actual private-healthcare money for.

She examined how my body was moving, tailored the treatment to what she found, explained why certain areas were hurting and gave me practical recommendations for what I could do differently.

Then she finished by stretching me.

I have never wanted to tip somebody so badly.

And I felt slightly guilty for being irritated when she’d first started talking.

She hadn’t been making idle conversation. She was trying to understand me so she could help me.

What struck me most was her expertise. Actually, no. Her enthusiasm for her expertise.

She clearly loved what she did. You could hear it in the way she explained things and feel it in the way she worked.

There’s something quite lovely about meeting someone who is genuinely good at their job and still excited by it.

When the review email landed afterwards I nearly leapt for joy.

“Tell us about your therapist.”

Say less! I wrote until I exceeded the required word count, trust me 😂

So back to my birthday retreat.

Interaction preference: Quiet or chat?

After all the stories-that-touch about how talking during treatments can actually be rather lovely… I ticked QUIET. ✅

And the treatment was so peaceful that at some point I drifted off and startled myself awake with the cutest princess snore. Yep, nothing changed.

Closing remark: I still can’t believe “Quiet or Chat?” is an actual question. Whoever added it to that form deserves a raise.