Not meant for internal use
Dominican Republic…I know it’s not THE south, but it’s south nonetheless. It was the end of vacation and my husband and I were staying at this casino in the capital. The old man had won some money gambling and he decided that he’d pay for a spa treatment for me (I’m a sucker for those things!). I opted for an exfoliation treatment since I was a little scaly from the sun. I walked into the spa and the woman who greeted me asked me to change out of my clothes and into a robe.
I should’ve known that something just wasn’t right when I walked into the treatment room and it reminded me of an operating room. It was solid white, circular, and had a white ceramic table in the center. Conzulea (the lady who would be working on me) didn’t speak English. I didn’t speak Spanish…very well…okay, at all. She motioned for me to remove my robe. She was holding a towel, so I assumed that she was going to lay them across me while on the table, so I could maintain some sense of dignity. Nope. I ended up 100% naked on the table. I started giggling a little bit and perhaps that’s when she misinterpreted my nervous laughter for sheer bliss.
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