My Moroccan Bath…..
Lord be a Loofah brush.
And scented soap.
Today was a day of adventure, explorations and new experiences all in the name of self love. Yes….today was spa day and trust me it was sooooooo well deserved.
So in the name of uhmmmmmm….I decided to partake in something new called the Moroccan bath. Well, first it isn’t really that new….seems its one of those things that been around for centuries but in the trajectory of my life, in order to relieve stress and exfoliate my life, i tend to play Tupac and do some of them beads from Bath and Body works.
So I set my appointment and become one with curiosity. Google search and all. I hear about the spices and oils and warm water and I know that….yassssssssss, this is going to be all the moments I ever dreamed of. Can I take my Jill Scott playlist inside the room?
Baby, and it was….warm water, steam room, these itty bitty panties that cut off my circulation (next time bring my own….overseas aint ready for the thick thighs save lives movement). The water was sprucing and saturating….some primer was placed in all my bumps and a pump and I was left to marinate.
And then the little lady came back and with her broken English, and held up her loofah brush and gave me the nod. And I nodded back. And she proceed to scrap the sins out of my soul. That loofah brush did things I didn’t know loofahs could to. It hit spaces so deep I ain’t sure my momma knew about them. And all while I was on my stomach she moved, grooved, tucked, tilted, rolled, and leaned all on my backside of my body. I felt like a car getting a full new body buffering and wax job.
And it was all lovely.
And I got flipped like rotisserie chicken….and after three scrubs this beautiful, innocent little lady says something that will forever change my life forever.
“Yes, miss….the front is always worse than the back.”
Huh? In this moment, I open my eyes and look and saw the CRUD. Whoa….is this is what supposed to happened when you exfoliate? There was so much little dirty cruddy spots and that is when I saw that the woman scrubbing me was sweating….in a damn shower. And she was working harder than Uncle Joe on that engine light. I am an old school Cadillac and they trying to restore me for the upcoming years!!! OMG….the trauma to see all that was on me….just sitting and rolling off my skin, my ankles, my knee caps….they scrubbed my knee caps. They scrubbed my ears so good I think I can now hear crickets doing the electric slide.
Baby the whole mood changed…I am now that reluctant kids who got to get scrubbed down before going to Easter Sunday….and it was when she was in the midst of my arm pit that I had the epiphany….in all my years in all my lives….I have never done right by a loofah.
Lawd, forgive me.
Ancestors, please pray over all the sea animals that gave their lives to sit unused on my floor as decoration and not be used in the way that commercialize merchandising meant for them to be used.
Whoa. And in this moment….with the recognizance of the secretions that are floating and arising from my body and my consciousness, i know that this is going to have to be a ritual. A routine. And I need to swear my non-speaking scrubber to a non-disclosure agreement.
Can’t nobody know the tolls and travesty that is hidden behind the black girl majic aura. NOT NOBODY!
So after my bathing….which was a full hour….(shouts to the tummy scrub)….and my full hour lubrication and body massage (to which I swear a 98 pound young lady did a handstand on my back so she could apply the right amount of pressure)…I walked out a new woman.
Skin on glow and life on flow…..the Mocarron bath which is also called a Hammam has been good to me!
A little preview of my so fresh and so clean swag….
I think this lady scrubbed 4 years off of me, 7 missed deadlines stress marks, a sore back and any traces of DNA on any FBI crimes scenes…