Relax! Take a mud bath?

Maybe if you move to Tahiti. Refuse to decorate the tree. Put on some American Indian flute music with a waterfall background instead of the usual classics which remind you of a time when everyone you love was home for Christmas.

A new meditation app is helping me decompress from holiday stress. Flute music reminds me of the one and only time I booked a spa treatment in Calistoga, Calif. Spring break 1999. Get a mud bath! My principal said it’s divine.

I got into trouble right away in the tranquility room, because I was chatting to this nice lady who was waiting in her bathrobe next to me. Shhhh! A voice behind a curtain startled us both. We looked up at the butterfly mobiles and noticed the “No talking” sign.

Next, this lovely masseuse came and invited me to lay face down on the massage table. Soon she whispered, “Your shoulders are tight. What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a teacher.”

“Oh, I have lots of clients who are teachers, and they all seem to have tight shoulders. Why is that?” Her hands gently squeezed the nape of my neck.

“It’s because you’re not allowed to hit the children.”

She laughed so loud that a mysterious voice made us jump. “Shhhhhhhhhh.” Pay no attention to the woman behind the curtain.

Then came the renowned mud bath. A squat German woman, whose arms and legs were the same length and circumference, pointed to a vat and said, “Hang up der robe, honey.” She took this enormous wood paddle and began stirring the black mud as steam wafted into the air.

I was stark naked and there was nowhere to hide, and she had a paddle! It was like climbing into a bath of mulch mixed with quicksand. She put cucumber slices on top of both eyes, and I couldn’t see a thing.

I was so hot, weighed down by mother earth. Downright miserable. It took me 13 minutes to bring one arm to the surface to remove the damn vegetables. By the time the masochist returned, I had four appendages out of the water. I felt tethered like Gulliver, unable to travel.

“Is du okay?” she shrugged.

“No,” I barked. “Get me out now!”

Finally, I got into the smallest shower I had ever seen and began removing the dirt from all of my orifices. When I didn’t emerge for some time, she asked, “Alles ok?”

“Do you have a washcloth?”

She yanked back the curtain and pointed to the handheld shower, removed the nozzle and handed it to me like I was a toddler. Thank God! I would have been there for another hour.

Next came a bath in a soaking tub in the serenity room. I waved quietly to the nice lady whom I met in the tranquility flute music room.

When the spa day came to an end and I handed over my Visa card, I choked on the total and vowed never to take a mud bath again. Why on earth did I try this?

Their brochure claimed, “Our iconic treatment using pure volcanic ash and mineral water from our geysers is perfect for detoxifying and relaxation, and an excellent prelude to massage.”

My readers know I love new experiences. Take me back to goat yoga please. Puppy yoga. Pure love. When something makes you smile, you relax.

May you find laughter and channel some inner peace this holiday season!