My Day at the Spa, or, the story of the two tattooed men.
So, in the grand tradition of really, really late entries; I thought I'd tell you all about my day at the Spa.
The Sunday before last, I was down in the Spa my Dad works at, hanging out at the pool and in the hot tub, waiting for my uncle to come pick me up on his way home. (for yea, verily, I hadst let myself be suckered-eth into another nanny job. eth.)
So I get into my swim suit, which is a cute little two-piece for the first time since I was a kid, and head on over to the hot tub. I get in, and there is a kindly older man there already, who cheerfully informs me that if I would like bubbles, he doesn't mind in the least, and the button is over that way. Declining bubbles, I get in and we exchange hellos and then sit quietly, enjoying the hot water.
A few seconds later, another man comes over and into the hot tub. Unfortunately, this is no kindly gentleman. This man is perhaps mid-forties, with long, thin, stringy hair, a Hulk Hogan-esq mustache, and tattoos covering both arms and shoulders. Not that lots of tattoos normally put me off, but these were of the sort you might find smaller versions of in quarter machines: flames, green skulls, etc. And my first thought, while I don't want to stereotype, is that this man would not look out of place sitting in a trailer watching NASCAR with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other.
With this promising start, the man joins us in the hot tub and the three of us make rather stilted conversation, until it comes to the point where it's my turn to make a comment, and the slightly dodgy man is looking at me expectantly. He scoots just a smidge closer to me, in a way that suggests he doesn't think I'll notice, and smiles. I suddenly realize that the water in the tub is at just the right height for my boobs, in their little skimpy top, to float like something in a movie that just got the pg13 rating. I suddenly wish that I had a victorian bathing costume, instead of a two-piece. To make him stop smiling at me, I said something that usually distracts very well, while requiring no brain power on my part; "I like your tattoos."
This launches a slightly more successful conversation between the three of us, which lasts another couple of minutes, until --woe is me-- the kindly older man regretfully informs us that he is getting too hot, and has to go cool off in the pool. Off he goes, leaving me alone in the hot tub with a very sketchy person. While I try to decide whether this guy is sketchy enough to warrant me removing myself from the hot tub until another person enters the pool room, we make more stilted conversation; (wherein I discover that he does indeed live in a trailer, ha) until he asks me if I'm 'still in school' .
...I had a moment of pure "oh no, he did not just ask me that after he's just scooted closer again' and a half-second of 'gross, he totally just did', I give him my very best "No, duh," look and say, as though it were particularly obvious, "NO."
His smile kind of freezes for a second and I can see the rusty cogs turning slowly beneath the long scraggly hair. "Oh," he says after a moment. "So,uh...how old are you?"
'HA!' I think, 'got you!' "I'm twenty."
"Oh!" he says, surprised, but not perhaps quick enough to show it.
'all right,' I think, 'he's just hit on me officially now, so I'm gonna have fun with this'. So I reply, with an innocent smile, "How old did you think I was?"
He blinks, and then says too quickly "Well, I thought you were-- seventeen or eighteen...you know..."
...Now, I don't know how many of you reading this have seen me in the last year or two, but I do not look eighteen. Even with the boobs acting as personal floatation devices, I look fourteen or fifteen at the most. So I know this for a fact, and this guy has just totally screwed himself over. Then, because I have an evil streak that I don't normally let loose among the populace, the thought went through my head 'Okay, now I'm just gonna mess with him.' Because, let's be honest, he was gross. So I say, with my sweetest smile, "Oh, I know, I've got the baby fat," and pinch my cheeks like one would do a child's, still smiling.
HAHA HAHAHHAHAA.....that moment was priceless. I watched his eyes widen as he leaned back away from me and swiftly tried to backtrack, 'cause he knew that any form of agreeing with me would be calling me fat, and he knew that once you call a girl fat, once you even possibly maybe insinuate that a girl is fat, you're gonna be going home alone. He stumbled around verbally for a while, before arriving at the remark "Well yeah, but it looks good on you"
ech. I decided that the squidge factor had now outweighed the fun I could have at his expense, and so I made the excuse that the water was too hot for me, and stood to get out of the tub. As I was stepping out, I hear him ask "So, uh, what're you doing tonight?"
After another second of "Oh no he didn't!" and my thought being "seriously, after thinking I was fifteen, because I know you were!" I turn and say in my best superior tones "I will be working!" in a manner that suggested perhaps he was there because he did not work.
I get out of the tub loftily, my nose in the air, and the guy follows me! Ech!! But luckily for me, I had already told him that I was here because my father worked here, and as I stood next to the pool with the creepy guy on my other side, I look up into the big window that is between the spa and the pool room, and there is Dad! I point and say "Oh look, it's my Dad!" in perky, cheerful tones, and I wave. As the guy looks up at the window, Dad waves back at me, tall and menacing suddenly. I feel the dodgy guy cringe, and to my great relief, skulk back to his towel. Beaming, I get into the pool on the very opposite side of the room from him, the kindly gentleman still doing laps in the middle section, and swim laps for a while sidestroke, my back always conveniently towards the creepy guy, who eventually left in disappointment, when the only other woman who arrived was one his own age, wearing a one-piece. mwa ha ha.
Now the part that makes the story interesting as well as amusing. Having lost my taste for the hot tub for the moment, I got out of the water once the creepy guy had gone, and settled down to read one of the magazines lying around. When I had finished it, I went into the locker room to check my phone (not knowing at what time exactly my uncle would call). Not finding anything of interest on my mobile, I headed back for the pool room. after a quick glance around to make sure there were no more NASCAR fans in the house, I went back to the hot tub.
In the hot tub was an interesting combination of people. On one side, squeezed into a corner, was a couple that just had to be newlyweds. They were attached at the hip, talking very carefully only to each other, and very very carefully ignoring the other occupant of the tub, a man covered in tattoos, with a pierced eyebrow, lip, and nipple. However, the differences between this very tattooed man and the former very tattooed man were striking. This guy looked like he took care of himself, and was fairly well groomed, with short hair and no dodgy mustaches or beards in sight. It was very hard not to laugh at this mix of people, really, but the writer in me thought this could be very entertaining, so I got in as well. Now, this is a pretty large hot tub, with enough room for maybe five or six people to get in and not be overly close; but apparently two was a crowd to the newlywed couple, because not long after I got in, they removed themselves, the woman casting wary glances at the pierced and tattooed man the whole time, and he just as obviously ignoring them completely, lying back with his eyes closed. I was rather of his opinion, really, they were kind of sickening to watch, even peripherally.
Eventually he opened his eyes and we exchanged pleasantries, and, figuring, 'what the hell, why not?' I said, "I like your tattoos." (only this time I was being completely honest, his tattoos were much more interesting and higher quality). This started the ball rolling, the subject carrying us through for quite a while. I found out that he went to school to be a tattoo artist, and that his apartment had just burned down on new year's day, but, in his words "I got my cat out okay, so I guess that's what matters." And that he and the other people in his building had been really lucky and gotten a lot of help from people and organizations like the red cross, and that he had just found this "mad shit great new apartment. I mean, I really liked my last place, but this one has a yard, and so I might be able to get a dog."
All in all we were probably there for almost an hour chatting, and it was completely friendly and leer-free, and I did not once catch him looking at my boobs. Point for Kealeigh.
The only thing I regret, and will remember for the future, was that when the creepy guy had said he thought I was 'seventeen or eighteen', I wish I had asked him, in my innocent voice, how old he was, and then when he told me, I would clap my hands together and give my most innocent little girl giggle and 'blurt' out "Oh, that's older than my Dad!"
which, in his case, would have been completely true. mwa ha ha...
The Sunday before last, I was down in the Spa my Dad works at, hanging out at the pool and in the hot tub, waiting for my uncle to come pick me up on his way home. (for yea, verily, I hadst let myself be suckered-eth into another nanny job. eth.)
So I get into my swim suit, which is a cute little two-piece for the first time since I was a kid, and head on over to the hot tub. I get in, and there is a kindly older man there already, who cheerfully informs me that if I would like bubbles, he doesn't mind in the least, and the button is over that way. Declining bubbles, I get in and we exchange hellos and then sit quietly, enjoying the hot water.
A few seconds later, another man comes over and into the hot tub. Unfortunately, this is no kindly gentleman. This man is perhaps mid-forties, with long, thin, stringy hair, a Hulk Hogan-esq mustache, and tattoos covering both arms and shoulders. Not that lots of tattoos normally put me off, but these were of the sort you might find smaller versions of in quarter machines: flames, green skulls, etc. And my first thought, while I don't want to stereotype, is that this man would not look out of place sitting in a trailer watching NASCAR with a cigarette in one hand and a beer in the other.
With this promising start, the man joins us in the hot tub and the three of us make rather stilted conversation, until it comes to the point where it's my turn to make a comment, and the slightly dodgy man is looking at me expectantly. He scoots just a smidge closer to me, in a way that suggests he doesn't think I'll notice, and smiles. I suddenly realize that the water in the tub is at just the right height for my boobs, in their little skimpy top, to float like something in a movie that just got the pg13 rating. I suddenly wish that I had a victorian bathing costume, instead of a two-piece. To make him stop smiling at me, I said something that usually distracts very well, while requiring no brain power on my part; "I like your tattoos."
This launches a slightly more successful conversation between the three of us, which lasts another couple of minutes, until --woe is me-- the kindly older man regretfully informs us that he is getting too hot, and has to go cool off in the pool. Off he goes, leaving me alone in the hot tub with a very sketchy person. While I try to decide whether this guy is sketchy enough to warrant me removing myself from the hot tub until another person enters the pool room, we make more stilted conversation; (wherein I discover that he does indeed live in a trailer, ha) until he asks me if I'm 'still in school' .
...I had a moment of pure "oh no, he did not just ask me that after he's just scooted closer again' and a half-second of 'gross, he totally just did', I give him my very best "No, duh," look and say, as though it were particularly obvious, "NO."
His smile kind of freezes for a second and I can see the rusty cogs turning slowly beneath the long scraggly hair. "Oh," he says after a moment. "So,uh...how old are you?"
'HA!' I think, 'got you!' "I'm twenty."
"Oh!" he says, surprised, but not perhaps quick enough to show it.
'all right,' I think, 'he's just hit on me officially now, so I'm gonna have fun with this'. So I reply, with an innocent smile, "How old did you think I was?"
He blinks, and then says too quickly "Well, I thought you were-- seventeen or eighteen...you know..."
...Now, I don't know how many of you reading this have seen me in the last year or two, but I do not look eighteen. Even with the boobs acting as personal floatation devices, I look fourteen or fifteen at the most. So I know this for a fact, and this guy has just totally screwed himself over. Then, because I have an evil streak that I don't normally let loose among the populace, the thought went through my head 'Okay, now I'm just gonna mess with him.' Because, let's be honest, he was gross. So I say, with my sweetest smile, "Oh, I know, I've got the baby fat," and pinch my cheeks like one would do a child's, still smiling.
HAHA HAHAHHAHAA.....that moment was priceless. I watched his eyes widen as he leaned back away from me and swiftly tried to backtrack, 'cause he knew that any form of agreeing with me would be calling me fat, and he knew that once you call a girl fat, once you even possibly maybe insinuate that a girl is fat, you're gonna be going home alone. He stumbled around verbally for a while, before arriving at the remark "Well yeah, but it looks good on you"
ech. I decided that the squidge factor had now outweighed the fun I could have at his expense, and so I made the excuse that the water was too hot for me, and stood to get out of the tub. As I was stepping out, I hear him ask "So, uh, what're you doing tonight?"
After another second of "Oh no he didn't!" and my thought being "seriously, after thinking I was fifteen, because I know you were!" I turn and say in my best superior tones "I will be working!" in a manner that suggested perhaps he was there because he did not work.
I get out of the tub loftily, my nose in the air, and the guy follows me! Ech!! But luckily for me, I had already told him that I was here because my father worked here, and as I stood next to the pool with the creepy guy on my other side, I look up into the big window that is between the spa and the pool room, and there is Dad! I point and say "Oh look, it's my Dad!" in perky, cheerful tones, and I wave. As the guy looks up at the window, Dad waves back at me, tall and menacing suddenly. I feel the dodgy guy cringe, and to my great relief, skulk back to his towel. Beaming, I get into the pool on the very opposite side of the room from him, the kindly gentleman still doing laps in the middle section, and swim laps for a while sidestroke, my back always conveniently towards the creepy guy, who eventually left in disappointment, when the only other woman who arrived was one his own age, wearing a one-piece. mwa ha ha.
Now the part that makes the story interesting as well as amusing. Having lost my taste for the hot tub for the moment, I got out of the water once the creepy guy had gone, and settled down to read one of the magazines lying around. When I had finished it, I went into the locker room to check my phone (not knowing at what time exactly my uncle would call). Not finding anything of interest on my mobile, I headed back for the pool room. after a quick glance around to make sure there were no more NASCAR fans in the house, I went back to the hot tub.
In the hot tub was an interesting combination of people. On one side, squeezed into a corner, was a couple that just had to be newlyweds. They were attached at the hip, talking very carefully only to each other, and very very carefully ignoring the other occupant of the tub, a man covered in tattoos, with a pierced eyebrow, lip, and nipple. However, the differences between this very tattooed man and the former very tattooed man were striking. This guy looked like he took care of himself, and was fairly well groomed, with short hair and no dodgy mustaches or beards in sight. It was very hard not to laugh at this mix of people, really, but the writer in me thought this could be very entertaining, so I got in as well. Now, this is a pretty large hot tub, with enough room for maybe five or six people to get in and not be overly close; but apparently two was a crowd to the newlywed couple, because not long after I got in, they removed themselves, the woman casting wary glances at the pierced and tattooed man the whole time, and he just as obviously ignoring them completely, lying back with his eyes closed. I was rather of his opinion, really, they were kind of sickening to watch, even peripherally.
Eventually he opened his eyes and we exchanged pleasantries, and, figuring, 'what the hell, why not?' I said, "I like your tattoos." (only this time I was being completely honest, his tattoos were much more interesting and higher quality). This started the ball rolling, the subject carrying us through for quite a while. I found out that he went to school to be a tattoo artist, and that his apartment had just burned down on new year's day, but, in his words "I got my cat out okay, so I guess that's what matters." And that he and the other people in his building had been really lucky and gotten a lot of help from people and organizations like the red cross, and that he had just found this "mad shit great new apartment. I mean, I really liked my last place, but this one has a yard, and so I might be able to get a dog."
All in all we were probably there for almost an hour chatting, and it was completely friendly and leer-free, and I did not once catch him looking at my boobs. Point for Kealeigh.
The only thing I regret, and will remember for the future, was that when the creepy guy had said he thought I was 'seventeen or eighteen', I wish I had asked him, in my innocent voice, how old he was, and then when he told me, I would clap my hands together and give my most innocent little girl giggle and 'blurt' out "Oh, that's older than my Dad!"
which, in his case, would have been completely true. mwa ha ha...