Nacho Spa Day

I treated myself to a real spa day. The kind with white robes, ocean sounds, and water that somehow costs extra. Everything smelled faintly of lavender and fresh starts. People around me sipped herbal tea and whispered about balance. I ordered nachos.

They were beautiful — the kind of nachos that arrive on slate instead of a plate. Blue corn chips stacked like architecture, cheese folded in delicate layers, guac quenelled with mathematical precision. A drizzle of something expensive tied it all together. It felt less like a meal and more like enlightenment — warm, creamy, and deeply unrepeatable.

While everyone else detoxed, I did the opposite. I re-toxified. I achieved harmony through sodium. Honestly, I’ve never felt more centered.

I left glowing, hydrated, and faintly smelling of cheese. They told me to drink water and rest. I told them I already had — I was full of both.