| I got mummified at the Hershey chocolate spa | ||
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Hershey
is to them what Cadbury is to us.
The Pennsylvanian city of Hershey is home to a chocolate factory, a pretend chocolate factory visitor attraction, and street lamps in the shape of Hershey Kisses sweets along roads called Chocolate and Cocoa Avenue. It also hosts a gigantic themepark flanked by endless parking lots, and on a hill overlooking these things stands a posh hotel and a spa. The spa was the reason that we went to Hershey. I love to go to the baths, and generally my tastes run towards the old and the characterful rather than upscale, overpriced and underwhelming hotel day spas. What turned my head about the Hershey spa is the fact that many of their treatments are - wait for it - based on chocolate. Why have a boring old rub down, when you can have a Cocoa Massage? Why not treat yourself to a Whipped Cocoa Bath? The Chocolate Bean Polish sounds positively pornographic, and the Chocolate Shower even worse. I haven't bothered to investigate the whys and hows of the chocolate theme, because I think that, beyond relaxation, medicinal claims made by spa promoters are usually bogus. But it makes sense if you don't think about it too hard, chocolate is nice, Hershey have a lot of it, smearing warm goo on your body is nice, therefore chocolate spa treatments must surely be nice. And, as we are reminded by spa staff probably forced to say it by rote several times a day, it isn't even fattening. Like we care. Anyway, a couple of months previously (this place gets booked up) Kay called them and booked us a pair of Chocolate Fondue Wraps, because it looked like the most weirdness for the least money. Here's what they say about the treatment in the brochure: "Our exclusive formula of warmed moor mud and essence of cocoa revitalises and nourishes the skin as it relaxes the body. A luxurious body brushing is followed by the fondue application. The body is then wrapped in a soft warm blanket to enhance the total effect. The Hershey Vichy Shower, promoting velvety smooth skin, culminates the effect." You can imagine how excited we were when we arrived at the spa reception, a bland holding room with a desk and a corner filled with the chocolate-scented crap they knew we'd want to buy on our way out. Hideous serene muzak wafted quietly around us. The desk people had little folders made up for us, adding to the feeling that we were either waiting for our turn at a cosmetic surgery boutique of the future, or hanging around to see what St Peter had to say about us at the gates of heaven. Shortly afterwards we were given robes (the helper successfully guessed my robe size as 2X, I was impressed) and plastic sandals, and then we were in. There are minimal public spaces at the Hershey Spa, it's all about having treatments in little rooms. Nevertheless, we managed to amuse ourselves for a couple of hours before our wraps, getting lost in the labyrinthine dressing rooms, sweating in the steam room, wondering if breathing in aromatherapy oils in the inhalation room was carcinogenic and hanging out in our bikinis on the balcony. The most popular public room was the quiet room, a faux old money library with log fire (on a baking hot July day!) behind glass that gave out no heat, and a little stand with tea, cocoa, water, fruit and dinky little muffins. Naturally there were overflowing bowls of chocolate on every surface. This room was heavily populated by the other punters who were in the main thin, primped, posh and anxious-looking white women. Everything felt absolutely unreal, or maybe virtually real, it was like being on the holodeck in Star Trek. We tried not to snigger too loudly as we scoffed yet another exquisite mini muffin. At 3.15 my therapist, Stephanie, came to get me and I have to admit a mild disappointment that she wasn't an Oompa Loompa, or at least one of the creepy Hershey product mascots. At first I was thrown by her sugary-sweet demeanour. Was she being overly sarcastic when she said how excited she was to be giving me the "signature" spa service? No, I surmised, if over-niceness wasn't her natural manner, it was at least her work persona, so I decided to go along with it and nice her in return. Stephanie showed me to a room with what looked like an operating table in pride of place. She left me for a few moments to strip off and lie on it with a couple of little towels covering my muff and my tits. I felt very naked and quite self-conscious. I wondered how often Stephanie had to deal with fat punters, and how she felt about doing me. Whatever it was, she gave nothing away. The lights were dimmed, the whalesong CD was on, and the treatment began. Stephanie used a big brush to rub me down. I don't know why she did it, but it felt good and scratchy. Then she went over to the chocolate goo warmer, picked up the bowl and urged me to sniff the brown stuff before she started smearing it all over me. It smelled of chocolate, oddly enough. I should mention that the goo wasn't real chocolate. Although I had fantasies of licking it off my face and forearms when nobody was looking, this would not be a good idea because the mixture is not really chocolate fondant, it's some kind of mud mixed with some kind of inedible chocolate by-product. Yum! It took about five minutes to get me covered. The chocolate goo smelled good, not disgusting as I had feared, it was actually quite subtle. Then I lay back and Stephanie wrapped me in a series of space blankets, towels, and woolly comforters until I was completely mummified and immobile. She gave me a fabulously soothing head massage, picked a muffin crumb off the side of my mouth, saying politely "Is that a freckle I see?" and left me to cook for 20 minutes. By this time I was on another planet, a druggy kind of planet. I lay there alone in the room and laughed and laughed and laughed. I thought about Kay going through the same thing and I laughed more. I was so relaxed that I drooled. I thought about my friends, about Simon, about my holiday, my life, even Stephanie, and I felt like the happiest gal in the world. I was beaming so hard that my face ached. It was over far too quickly, I could have stayed there for a lot longer, but such is the way of life. Stephanie came back and unwrapped me. Then she switched on the Vichy shower, a horizontal unit with multiple heads that washes and massages you whilst you are lying down, and swept it across me. It felt unbelievably good, like a warm wet hug from someone you love. Stephanie helped me wash off all the goo, then she rubbed some chocolate lotion on me. I felt like the laziest gal in town. Then it was over. I dressed and left the room. Stephanie wanted to hug me, so I let her, even though I am not in the habit of hugging strangers. I don't know if she hugs everyone, Kay's therapist didn't hug her, so maybe she liked me. She gave me a souvenir brush, and I went back into the quiet room to find my girlfriend. The Spa at Hershey |
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