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Health & Fitness

My Day Of Luxury At The Renaissance ClubSport in Aliso Viejo

What's it like for someone who is always on the go to spend an entire day at the Renaissance ClubSport Spa? Find out as Jennifer gives an decadent insider's scoop!

The best gift I got this last Mother's Day (besides the hugs and homemade cards) was in the form of a gift certificate to Renaissance ClubSport in Aliso Viejo. Not only was the gift certificate redeemable for an entire spa day, but my 12 year old son won it for me through contest he entered (by writing a very sweet essay about why I am the best mom "ever.") If you are a mother as well, fear no competition—I've had my share of days when I've been told that I am the worst mom ever (usually after enforcing a time-out, or suggesting a household chore.)

My package included an hour long massage, a body scrub, a facial and a free lunch at Citrus (the 4 star restaurant inside the Renaissance ClubSport.) It took a little convincing, but my husband agreed to spend Memorial Day alone with the kids, relaxing at the beach. Well, he was "relaxing" until our older son knocked down another family's elaborate sandcastle. My son apparently thought the other family had left. They had not left.

I had only been to the Renaissance ClubSport once before for an annual Casino Night event for my daughter’s softball team. During that event we were relegated to a back room, and weren’t exactly using the sauna or the Club’s gigantic swimming pool. 

With a 9 a.m. appointment, I arrived a half hour early and went straight to the coffee bar inside the main lobby. Not sure how to order non-Starbucks beverages, I muddled over the menu and asked how their sizing works (i.e., small, medium, large.)  It turns out that there was no need to fear! The cafe bar “proudly” serves Starbucks coffee. Within moments I had a tall iced Americano with a splash of soy (which promptly leaked through the rather snug lid onto my pin striped pants- luckily they were dark grey which made the splotch less noticeable.)

Coffee in hand, I relaxed outside near the swimming pool on one of the very comfortable lounge chairs. As I sipped my drink, I tried not to eavesdrop on the nearby businessman from Washington, who was giving his wife his own review of the amenities via cell. I must have been rather engrossed, as when I checked my watch it was one minute past nine and time to head inside.

After walking through the open see-through doors to the Spa, I was greeted  by a very friendly woman at the front desk. She handed me a short form to fill out—a basic “I won’t sue you if my massage isn’t good” waiver, which also asked if I have allergies or take any medications. She then gave me a tour of the amenities. There was a locker room with a very fluffy robe, towel, and sandals waiting for me; as well as a lounge area with a selection of magazines geared for women (men—bring your own reading material, unless you enjoy “Shape” magazine.) There was a refreshing arrangement of Tazo teas and water flavored with fresh cut strawberries. I immediately disposed of my coffee and opted for a cool glass of strawberry water. After changing into my robe (my bra and panties still underneath) I was summoned by the woman who would be giving me the brown sugar body scrub. She led me into a room which reminded me of a very fancy prison shower. There was a massage bed and a strange looking shower device in the corner. Until that moment, I had no idea that a body scrub included water. The inclusion of water was confirmed when the body scrub woman, I will call her Jill, said, rather ominously, that she was going to go and change as she would get soaked. Soaked? She told me to remove (and I quote) “everything.” Assuming she meant the standard practice of an ordinary massage, I replied, “You mean my bra?”. 
“No,” she said with a smile, as if she often received a similar reaction from prospective clients, “everything.”

Once everything was indeed removed, during which Jill respectfully left the room, I lay down and huddled under a towel. Jill came in and told me to turn onto my back. For this, she lifted the towel up for privacy as I spun onto my belly, shyly.  Jill politely tucked a towel around my lower portion like a makeshift bathing suit and turned on perfectly heated water. This is when I realized that a brown sugar body scrub has more in common with heaven than prison. In warm waves small streams of water shot out of the multiple shower heads soaking me from head to toe. Jill diligently scrubbed my arms, legs, toes and back while I commiserated that being the body scrub person was no easy task! Less a germaphobe than I, Jill’s light touch pressed onward, ever the professional.

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After I dried off and applied a very absorptive geranium based lotion, I waited for my hour long relaxation massage. “Sarah,” a young blond came up with a smile and led me to another room. This time I was allowed to wear my under-roos and was grateful for the regained coverage. Once I was underneath a very warm sheet Sarah returned and began applying a scentless massage lotion to my shoulders. She asked what sort of pressure I like (light, medium, hard.) I chose hard, but her pressure remained fairly light throughout. This is common when I’ve had massages, I think I should probably request “extra-hard” in future. Not one to keep quiet, I chattered about various things and Sarah was very sweet in keeping the conversation flowing. I learned that her goal is to work with sport’s teams as she loves sports in general. We talked about dogs, her boyfriend’s peanut allergy, and the movie “Inception.” I asked if she’d ever had anyone cry on the massage table (I’ve heard past massage therapists say that some people do.) Sarah said she hasn’t had a crier yet, but she does have a lot of people who say they like to fall asleep and that if they don’t it isn’t a good massage.  I have a bad habit of not relaxing during massages when the pressure isn’t quite right and by the end I felt a slight ache to my jaw. Note to self—relax more!

Although it was only 11 a.m., my tummy was beginning to rumble and I headed over to Citrus for a "comped" lunch. Unfortunately, my makeup had washed off during my body scrub and my hair was beginning to curl in small spirals. The front desk woman, who I'd met earlier that day, reassured me that most everyone there is sans makeup, as they've just come from the gym.

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I chose a small table near the window and waited for a menu and my server. After waiting about ten minutes, I was approached by a fresh faced waitress with bleached blonde hair. I made my order and waited ... and waited. Turns out that restaurants with adjacent swimming pools are popular on holiday weekends, as it took over thirty minutes for my food to arrive. I decided to eat outside and the busboy kindly scooted a lounge chair closer so I could use it as a table. By then my tummy rumble had turned into a growl, and I wolfed down my chef’s salad (with vinaigrette instead of blue cheese) and drank my pineapple juice eagerly. The only problem with four star restaurants at health clubs, is that the portion size is adapted for health conscious people who’ve just worked out (more than for a starving mom who ate a protein bar for breakfast, at 6 a.m.) Although I saw a businessmen conducting business, the clientele at Citrus was not overtly diverse. In seemed to be mainly middle aged, upper-middle class couples and families. By and large, they were athletic with more than a few men having muscular arms the size of my head. Perhaps this isn't indicative of the ordinary clientele and merely the demographic lunching at the same time as I.

After jetting back to the Spa’s locker room for a few extra dollars for my server (the salad and pineapple juice came to $20.66, when I was only given a twenty dollar lunch voucher), I went back to the lounge area to wait for my facial. The facial was to be given by Jill—my brown sugar body scrub administrator from earlier. I explained to Jill that I’d never had a facial before and have very sensitive skin. Sensing my trepidation, she led me through each process, step by step. 

First, was cream and massage—sinus massage, lymphatic drainage, then another scrub of my face. Giving me goggles, she turned on a very bright light and inspected my skin. Suddenly I wished I didn’t furrow my brow so much when sleeping and that I hadn’t eaten a chocolate bar that always gives me a rash.  She then “popped” any under the skin blemishes (using latex gloves and very sharp fingernails)... which was not my most favorite part, but standard (I’ve heard) for facials. From there she used a high-tech machine, with a bright violet light to oxygenate my pores. Once finished, the best part of my day began. As she worked on my neck, shoulders, temples and feet—I became near putty and melted into the massage table—a puddle of relaxation.
Jill made a comment that I must have a lot of stress in my life, as my body was very tightly wound. Rather than go into all of my stressors (we all have some, after-all) I nodded diplomatically and thanked her for such a relaxing facial and massage.

Lesson learned? I shouldn’t wait for my children to win a contest to go to a Spa. Motherhood demands a lot and if I can get the same relaxation I did today, for a hundred and thirty bucks (the cost of just the facial and a tip, had I been paying,) then I better begin my own personal monthly massage fund!

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