Whilst in Buzios, we stayed at a charming pousada which offered spa services. Wisely, the spa therapists gave everyone free quick massages. The woman suggested that I could use a wine therapy treatment to rejuvenate my body and rid it of excess toxins. I was puffy, my body perhaps retaining water in the aftermath of the colonoscopy. Included in the treatment was ultrasound to break up fat and a massage to drain lymph nodes. It sounded better and better. She said she’d throw in a free facial, a “mini-plastica”, to even out my skin tone and lift the skin on my face.
So I booked it for the first afternoon after the beach. Standing in my undies, the therapist measured the body parts needing treatment. I then stretched out on the massage table while the wine therapist broke up the fat on my thighs with an ultrasound machine, after which she smoothed a mask on my face that smelled of yogurt and honey. When she was finished, she wrapped my thighs and tummy in gauze soaked in grape juice, algae, and a few other things I couldn’t understand, just like a mummy. I got back up on massage table, my midsection planted on a thermal blanket. She gave me a glass of red wine (chilled, about one grade above boxed wine) and turned on some floaty music. When I had finished the wine, I laid down and she wrapped the thermal blanket around me.
Talk about miracle juice! The only difference between this experience and the anesthesia for the colonoscopy was that I occasionally woke myself up with the sound of my own snores. When I came to my senses, I was then treated to a massage, ridding my apparently engorged lymph nodes of further toxins. Finally, the woman removed the mask from my face and measured my body parts again. In order to use the mask you have to be totally still for an hour; the effects of the mask will be negated if it cracked.
I did lose sizeable numbers of centimeters after the wine therapy and my face appreciated the gooey mixture. It got me out of the grump of saying good-bye to Mr. Understanding. But I didn’t buy the package the therapist was offering for my stay, a mere $650 USD for the wine therapy or the $150 for 36 applications of goop to take home with me: there wasn’t enough wine or enough time. There’s no such thing as a miracle in a jar – I need some direct divine intervention.