Louise McSharry: ‘Such was the loathing I felt for my body, the idea of someone massaging it was beyond comprehension’
There are few things in life I love more than a spa. As someone who finds it hard to relax and turn off my inner monologue of “things I should be doing/things I’ve already failed at”, there’s something almost magical about spending time in a space specifically designed to chill you out. From the treatments themselves to the delightful plinky-plonky music and hushed tones of the therapists, I love it all. It may surprise you, then, to hear that I didn’t get into the spa game until I was in my thirties. Prior to that age, I had placed spa visits firmly into the “not for the likes of me” category, along with horse riding and anything to do with a wetsuit. In case you’re wondering, “the likes of me” meant fat people. For a large portion of my life, I believed that there were lots of things fat people like me couldn’t or shouldn’t do. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to do them, they were firmly out of bounds “until I lost the weight”.