Who's Your Buddy? Who's Your Pal?

I think anyone who has an email account has received a forward of a forward of a forward. Some are cute and some are serious. Some remind us to have a good day. Some remind us that we are loved. Some remind us to pray for those less fortunate. Some remind us to praise God. And some are just for laughs.

I received this one a couple of days ago and it really got me thinking.

TO THE WONDERFUL WOMEN IN MY CIRCLE

When I was little, I used to believe in the concept of one best friend, and then I started to become a woman. And I found out that if you allow your heart to open up, God would show you the best in many friends.

One friend's best is needed when you're going through things with your children. Another friend's best is needed when you're going through things with your mother. Another when you want to shop, share, heal, hurt, joke or just be. One friend will say let's pray together, another let's cry together, another let's fight together, another let's walk away together.

One friend will meet your spiritual need, another your shoe fetish, another your love for movies, another will be with you in your season of confusion, another will be your clarifier, another the wind beneath your wings.

But whatever their assignment in your life, on whatever the occasion, on whatever the day, or whether you need them to meet you with their gym shoes on and hair pulled back, or to hold you back from making a complete fool of yourself... those are your friends.

It may all be wrapped up in one woman, but for many it's wrapped up in several... one from 7th grade, several from high school, several from the college years, a couple from old jobs, several from church; on some days your mother, on others your sisters; and on some days it's the one that you needed just for that day or week that you needed someone with a fresh perspective, or the one who didn't know all your baggage, or the one who would just listen without judging... those are good best friends.

I thank my girlfriends, those who honor intimacy, those who hold trust, and those who hold me up when life is just too heavy! The special bond we share is unique. Thanks for the words we've shared. The prayers sent up. The laughs, the tears, the phone calls, the emails, the shopping, the movies, the lunches, the dinners, the talking, talking, talking and the listening, listening, listening....

It just so happens the friend who sent this relfection on friends to me is a friend I have experienced many adventures with. When I have some particularly out of the usual activity to do, she's the first person I think of.

So, when I finally had lost enough weight and thought I was looking pretty good, I decided to do something very special for my husband, the most amazing man in the world. I wanted to have a calendar made for him. Of course, I was to be the subject. I wanted tasteful, artistic, black and white boudoir photographs made. Well, being that I was going to end up naked infront of a stranger in a strange setting, I didn't want to go by myself. And since I was doing this as a gift for my husband, I couldn't very well likely ask him to come with me. So, I asked myself, "Who's your buddy? Who's your pal?" My friend, let's just call her "Samantha", was the only person I could think of who I would feel comfortable having there and who (and this is important) I thought would be willing to be there.

How does one ask a friend to go on a nudie picture adventure? Turns out, it was pretty easy. My friend, as I discovered, had already gone down that avenue. Well, GOLLY, GEE. Can I pick 'em or what?

Living in Germany lends itself to all kinds of sights and sounds. Let me just say that Europeans are far less selfconscious about their bodies than Americans. At public water parks, it's nothing to see folks change into their swimsuits right on the pool deck. Usually though, some spas and water parks have one or two days where patrons can enjoy the experience in their birthday suits. My friends and I refer to those days as "naked days." And naked days are co-ed. There is co-ed naked sauna, co-ed naked swimming, and co-ed changing rooms. Folks of all ages, shapes and sizes have no problem getting naked. As they say, when in Rome...

I wouldn't describe myself as a prude, but I usually don't get naked with a large group of people (It was a different story way back when I was in college and drinking heavily, but I've grown up since then) that I don't know. So, I prefer attending spas on regular days and not naked days. Even though regular days involve swimming attire, saunas are always naked, usually co-ed. You might think this sounds pretty cool. Let me tell you, it's NOT. Ever wonder what a 70 year old overweigh man looks like naked? How about an 87 year old grandmother? Come to a spa on naked day and you'll never wonder again. Even on regular days, you can see some of the most amazing things. Keep in mind, European men, even the particularly large and saggy men, love their speedos. On time I saw a 50+ year old man sporting a thong speedo. I very much wanted to take a picture of that. You would never see that in the United States. Who would have believed such a thing?

But, I digress. There is a spa that is approximately 30 minutes from where I live. It is also the largest spa in Germany and the prices are wonderful. They offer all kinds of skin treatments, massages, pools, water fitness, and assorted holistic treatments. One skin treatment in particular is called Moor.

Now, my friend, the one I'll call "Samantha", had been to the spa on a prior occasion and inquired about Moor. Most of the employees at the spa speak only German and my friend, the one I'm still referring to as "Samantha", speaks little German. Luckily another patron who spoke English was standing near by. He explained that the Moor is spread all over the body. It absorbs all the impurities and revitalized the skin. But what is Moor, my friend asks. The kind gentlemen replies, "It is.....how you say mud from the swamp?" My friend, who's from Arkansas, says, "We call that Swamp Mud." Alas, time was short and Samantha was with the "wrong" friend and didn't try the Moor. She saved that for another time and another friend.

A few days pass and I get a phone call. My friend,"Samanta", invites me to KissSalis, that's the largest spa in Germany. Of course I accept. A day of spa-ing for around $20 is a great thing.

On our way there, she starts telling me all about Moor a.k.a. Swamp Mud. Now, I have seen pictures of women covered in mud. It looks kinda cool and since I'm always up for a new and improved adventure and I'm with the "right" friend for the task, I agree. Little did I know...

Once there, we go up to the Moor Raum (the Swamp Mud Room). The attendant tells us we have to remove all jewelry and our swimsuits. Yes, the mud experience will be a naked thing. We are directed to a serving bar. It's similar to a salad bar minus the sneeze shield. In the bar, there are two large stainless steel pots. Removing the lid, reveals thick black mud. "Samantha" reaches in a grabs a handful of the Moor and begins rubbing it on her arms as if nothing is amiss. How she got past the initial waft of stink, I'll never know. As soon as I removed the lid from my stainless steel pot, my eyes started stinging and my sinuses immediately cleared out. Folks from a rural farming community will have a better understanding of the degree of stench. It didn't smell like just swamp mud. It smelled like a farm field immediately after turning over the soil and mixing in tons of barnyard fresh manure.

But we're being watched by the attendant and "Samantha" hasn't yet noticed it, so I reach in a grab a big ol' handful of the goo and start smearing it all over my body. I had expected the Moor to be more like a rich clay, but it was nowhere close to clay. This stuff was like dirt and black soil mixed with swamp sludge. By now, I'm squeezing my eyes shut and giggling. It's so horrible, all I can do it laugh. "Samantha" finally registers the smell. Her nostrils flare and her forehead curls.

"Dang. You smell that?"

"OH MY GOD, YES!!"

Now we are both laughing and crying at the same time, but we continue with the Moor experience. Who's your buddy? Who's your pal? One who can smear stinky swamp mud in your hard-to-reach places, that's who.

When our bodies are, quite literally, completely covered neck to toe in mud, we are directed to a stone, form-fitting bench. We lay back in a reclined position and are told to remain there for 15 minutes. That's when the attendant turns on the heat lamps.

We thought the smell was bad before. I just looked over at "Samantha" and started laughing.

"You stink."

"Ah, no. You stink. Hey, what's this?" she asks pointing at a hunk of some black substance clinging to her leg.

"Who knows? It could be some sort of muted worm. I don't even WANT to know. What's this?" I poked at a bit of something sticking to my stomach. I half expected it to move, but it didn't. I was too afraid to pick it off. I figured it might have popped and oozed its internal organs.

"Just leave it alone."

Her nose was curled up, as was mine. We both frowned as we continued to breath in the stinky swamp mud fumes.

Normally, the body will become climatized, accustomed to a smell after a few minutes. I read somewhere that within three minutes, smell receptors become overwhelmed with a particular smell and are no longer able to register it. Well, I can proffer that after 15 whole minutes, caked with Moor, under heat lamps, my smell receptors were still receiving and registering.

When the timer dinged and the heat lamps shut off, we were quick to hop up and dash to the showers. Even standing under a full-blast stream of water, that cooked on mud was not releasing its grip. The attendant provided a scrub brush. I'm not talking a delicate scrubby that one can pick up in the bath and shower department. I'm talking a scrub brush from the hardware store, one that you would use to scrub the patio or carport.

I would venture to say it's not the Moor that makes your skin feel revitalized. It's the scouring with the heavy duty scrub brush. After 10-15 minutes of scrubbing, most of the mud was finally off, but a brown, slimy film lingered. Scrubbing didn't really remove it. It just encouraged it to migrate to a different place on your body. Who's your buddy? Who's your pal? The one who'll take a pressure washer and a brillo pad to your hard-to-reach areas.

It took longer to get the gunk off than it did to smear it on and sit for 15 minutes. All of that for an additional three euro ($3.75). I'm glad I did it for the experience and for the well-earned right to say I did it. But, I can't recommend it and nor will I do it again.

There are many kinds of friends. There is the friend who'll encourage you to talk to the cute fellow, the friend who'll go shopping for hours with you while you try on hundreds of pairs of shoes, the friend who can call you at 3:00 in the morning, the friend who you'll bail out of jail and there's the friend you'd get arrested with. In my case, I have a friend who'll go take nudie pictures with me and one who'll go with me to cover our naked bodies with stinky swamp mud and sit under heat lamps.....wait...that's the same one!

Life is good. Get out and live a little.