Yuca in my Cup

When I was a child, I was sent to live with my extended family in Colombia. Overall, the experience was amazing. Not only did I get to really know my aunts, uncles and cousins but I also learned how to read and write in Spanish. 

The only glitch in this adventure was the food. Lunch time was the worst part of the day for me. I was use to public school lunches, not to two course meals every day. The first dish was soup with either vegetables, beans or lentils and the second dish consisted of rice, potatoes and some kind of meat. These were big dishes..how did they expect a child to eat all that?...really?!

I’d “sit” at lunch for hours while everyone else was taking their “siesta.” Everyone was napping, the only noise in the house came from a hand held radio blasting classical music into my baby cousin’s room...my aunt's idea, she read somewhere that listening to classical music while a child slept made them smarter. I’d sit at the table by myself, sloshing around my cold, greasy soup with my spoon. I was not allowed to get up from the table until I had finished everything on my plate. It was one of those households...so, I tried everything to eat my food within a reasonable amount of time and not end up sitting there for hours. I tried shoving big spoonfuls of food mixed in with the delicious natural fruit juices, to wash it down...but that didn’t work because I’d run out of juice really fast. Then I tried the “not breathing method”...where you hold your breathe, put food in your mouth and quickly swallow, there’s barely any chewing involved in this method...you know the one I’m talking about. I even tried putting the  food in my napkin to make it “disappear” but I got caught. It also didn’t help that I was really stubborn and would rather sit there, talking and singing to myself, then eat cold and slimy, congealed soup.

Of all the foods, it was yuca that I hated the most. Yuca is a starchy tuberous root called cassava in the US. In Colombia, it’s usually cooked in soups. It is served in soups or on the side with your meat and rice dish, drizzled with sofrito. I hated the texture, it's very starchy and sort of stringy and it stuck to my teeth...the sensation in my mouth, was like finger nails scratching chalk board. Now imagine that cold...yuck! On this particular day, when I was served yuca for the millionth time, I had had enough. I was tired of sitting at the table for hours. I decide to do something about it because I sure wasn’t going to eat it! The solution was to get rid of it. But how? I could throw it in the garbage...but that would be the first place my aunt would look...I could chug it with juice?...hell NO! I sat their devising ways to get rid of it and then it hit me!  The cup! Yes! I quickly put the yuca inside the mustard colored tupperware cup. Yes, tupperware, it was all the rage then. Now that I had it in there, it was time to “show” my empty plate, run to the kitchen and dump the yuca in the trash camouflaged by many napkins, without getting caught. It worked! I “ate” in record time and was off to nap and play. I thought I had gotten away with it, until my aunt called me into the kitchen after my nap. I walk in and she’s holding the cup...I was so busted! I just stood there waiting...waiting for someone, anyone to save me...My aunt was trying to keep a straight face while trying to make me confess...I could tell that she was impressed by my ingenuity. After what seemed like an eternity of staring at each other, she let me go, no punishment...I don’t remember much after that...I guess, she gave up trying to make me eat things I didn’t like. Thankfully, I wasn’t “scarred” by the experience.

Many years after that, I was reintroduced to yuca as an adult. And this time, I fell in love with it. I was searching for good Latin cuisine in Manhattan and I came across, Cuba restaurant located in the Village on Bleeker St. When I walked into this small, warm and cozy restaurant, I felt instantly transported...I can’t say to Cuba because I’ve never been but it definitely didn't feel like I was in NY, specially on a cold winter’s night...between the cigar making in one corner and the live Cuban music in the other, I felt like I'd come home. As I looked around taking it all in, very excited to have found a decent Latin restaurant, something caught my eye. I asked the waiter what were the perfectly shaped, crispy brown morsels at the table next to mine. He told me they were “dedos de yuca” or yuca fries. Really? That’s not what the yuca I’m use to looks like? It actually looked appetizing.  He convinced me to try them, or maybe the smell did. The yuca fries arrived with a Cuban garlic mojo sauce. I slowly reached for one, dipped it in the mojo and took a tiny bite, just in case I had to “hide” it in my napkin...some habits never die...but there was no need for the napkin, the yuca fries were finger licking good! I could eat yuca prepared this way, every day. I sat there wondering why this had not been invented before? Ok, I surmised it had been invented a long time ago. I just hadn't been privy to it before...I guess better late than never...Now I’m hooked on yuca balls from Whole Foods, pictured below. Thank you Edilka for introducing them to our champagne club! 

If someone would have told me, that I would end up “loving” yuca back then, I would have thought they were crazy. Now, I can’t get enough of it. I’m also grateful that I didn’t end up with food issues from being “forced” to eat everything on my plate. Any parents, aunts or caregivers out there, please don’t “force” your child to eat something you wouldn’t eat. Be a good example and eat it yourself. Find creative ways of making and serving it. If you are stuck on how to do that, send me an email. I’d be happy to help!

in love and pleasure,

Margarita
Nutrition Counselor
The Twinkie Angel

Dancing Feeds My Soul

Yes, that’s me in the video. It’s a student performance. I practiced for what seemed like an eternity, for a three minute performance. Too bad the quality of the video is not the best....it’s a bit blurry and you can barely see me. If you look carefully, I’m the one that comes in and out of view, at the top right corner. 

What would prompt me to "perform" in front of people? My love of dance, my belief in trying things at least once...well, at least things that I love.

For me dancing and specially salsa dancing is hypnotic, energizing, sensual to the point of erotic. As soon as I hear a song, my heart expands and starts beating to the tumbao(basic rhythm in afro-Cuban music), to the beat of the congas, the timbales and the other seductive rhythms that make up a good salsa song. I start singing out loud. If you’ve ever danced with me, you’ve experienced this first hand. My head starts bopping, my hips start swaying..my shoulders gently move, making a very seductive figure eight. My feet start moving and the rest of my body follows...and then my soul takes over. I am in a trance for as long as the song will hold me. No one else exists. I’m in the “zone,” time and space do not exist...I can “feel” where my partner will lead me next. There are no words, just an energy exchange, a feeling of where to go...we are perfectly in sync, gliding on the dance floor...and then the song ends and the spell is broken...until the next song of course!

My journey with dancing started in the womb and it goes back generations. We are a family of dancers on both sides. It’s in our blood. I’ve been dancing “Colombian Salsa” since I was little. When I moved down to Miami from NY, I learned that there were many other salsa styles, so I started learning. I learned Casino with Salsa Mia and I learned On1, On2, Cha Cha Cha and Bachata(although this is not salsa) with Miami Salsa Driven. What started as a hobby has turned into a passion. I’ve met so many amazing people and great friends dancing Salsa. 

Dancing feeds my soul. When I’m dancing, I lose track of time and I don’t get hungry...When you are doing the thing that you love, it fuels you and energizes you...you eat only for nourishment and not out of boredom. What feeds your soul? 

in love and pleasure,

Margarita

Nutrition Counselor
The Twinkie Angel

Friendship

I had the most amazing birthday! I got every one of my birthday desires. I'm extremely grateful to my dear friends for helping me fulfill all of my birthday desires. I had the best celebration ever! I'm truly blessed to have relationships that are healthy and nourishing.

I believe you need to have different types of friendships for different areas in your life. No one person can be it all for you, as a friend or romantic partner. I also know that true friendships take time. You need to cultivate and nurture them. You can’t insinuate yourself in someone else’s life without having some common ground and an appreciation for who they are. A great friendship is nourishing and unfolds slowly, it can take up to years....it’s like an onion, you are peeling back each other’s layers, one layer at a time...taking care to respect and honor each other at every stage.

I have a movie friend, dancing friends, divorced mom friend, mom/sister friend, a friend that cuts through the bullshit but does it with compassion.  

I met my dance friends while taking salsa lessons here in Miami. They’re no longer just my “dance” friends...I consider them my family here. They are fabulous dancers and teachers, I’m always learning from them on the dance floor as well as off it. We've become such great friends that I’ve put them in charge of wiping clean my computer's hard drive and erasing any "naughty evidence" in my apartment. Not a day goes by that we don't text, email or call each other...and not a weekend goes by that we don’t see each other. Just like we're addicted to dancing salsa, we seem to be addicted to each other's company...in a healthy way of course.

I have a friend that is like a mother and sister wrapped in one. She is my cheerleader, bodyguard, partner in crime....she’s promised to help me bury the “body,” if there ever is one. She’s known me since my Catholic school days...she’s seen me in kilt and knee highs. We’ve gone on the Staten Island ferry just to chat. Once, we went to the movies and we paid for our tickets in coins....yes, all in coins. She kept on telling the guy selling us the tickets, to look at how pretty I was.  She also kept on telling him what a sweetheart he was for taking all of our coins as payment. We've done so many crazy and fun things together that it would take an entire book to talk about them.

Then I have my yoga soul sisters, We’ve been through yoga training, self growth courses, divorces, babies and many laugh out loud outrageous adventures together. One lives in Paris, one in NY and the other in Australia. I talk to the one in Paris every day and with the one in Australia, at least once a week, usually when I’m driving home from dancing...since there’s a 14 hour time difference, the timing is perfect. Weeks may go by where I don’t speak with my friend in NY but when we do speak, it’s like we never skipped a beat. We are so in sync that we can basically read each other's minds. The distance between us doesn’t get in the way of our friendship.  

My other soul sister and wing woman lives here in Miami. She is my decadent and glamorous partner in researching pleasure. We conjure all kinds of fabulous invitations and fun when we are out on the town. We support each other in the creation of our respective businesses and desires. She reminds me that my desires are never too big and that I deserve every one of them.

My friend and beach companion, is my grounding friend. We walk on the beach in the mornings, weather permitting. We walk for miles, catching up on each other’s lives, our plans, business strategies and we have a running commentary on the naked sun bathers and joggers. Yes, men jogging naked..not a pretty sight, contrary to popular belief...at least not on this stretch of beach.

My healing friend, is my source of restoration and coming home to myself. As a healer, I firmly believe in taking care of my body, mind and spirit. So, I make sure that I have regular healing sessions from her, a healer other than myself. Not only do we share a similar path in our healing work but we’ve also been through a few self growth courses together. The last of my core friends, is my spiritual mentor, she is all about love and spirit. She is patient, fun and someone I can share my spiritual growth and skills. Her encouragement and knowledge are always available unconditionally.

I have many other amazing friends, too many to mention. I am very lucky to have a treasure trove of quality friendships.

All my friends bring different aspects to our relationship, each one adding to the whole of who I am. When they say, “it takes a village,” they weren’t kidding!...My village is made up of these women along with my mother and daughter....without their encouragement, support, “permission” to be “me,” laughter, love and compassion...I’d be a little less brighter. Their light and love shone on me, makes my light shine brighter.

Thank you ladies, for holding my hand, wiping my tears, rejoicing in my victories and laughing at my outrageous adventures! 

in love and pleasure,


Margarita
Nutrition Counselor
The Twinkie Angel

If you are ready to create deep, nurturing and long lasting relationships with your family, friends, partner and food, call me to set up a free Health Consultation.

My Bucket List ~ Skydiving

What is a Bucket List? It's a list of things to do before you "kick the bucket" (i.e., die)....I rather call mine, a desire list...as in all the fun things I can’t wait to do! 

Fortunately, I’ve been able to do most of the things on my ongoing desire list. Yes, ongoing because as I cross off an item, I add two or three more. So, as I sit here on my very comfortable couch, on the eve of my birthday....I find myself revisiting the things I’ve done and the things I still desire to do...wondering when I can check them off... 

So far, I've gone back packing, sky diving, scuba diving, surfing, snow boarding and motorcycle riding. The most amazing experience has been sky diving followed by back packing for two months through Europe. I think they go hand in hand for me...because of the many fantastic experiences while back packing, I came back more open and ready to live my life to the fullest...ready to hurl my self into the vast unknown, literally and figuratively.

The skydiving school I went to was in upstate New York. I don’t remember the name or even know if it’s still there since it’s been years since my jump. As soon as I voiced my desire to jump, I was able to enlist three other adventurous souls. The four of us, three guys and myself, arrived early in the morning to get a few basics out of the way. Like signing our lives away...you know the forms...are you healthy?...we are not responsible in case of an accident...who’s next of kin?....After all the paper work was filled out, it was time to gear up.  

  

I put on the canvas like jumpsuit and moved onto the instructional part...One of the jump masters showed us how to check the altimeter, a wrist-mounted instrument that shows you how far up you’re from the ground or how close you are getting to it...great idea since you need to pull the ripcord at 6,000 feet to deploy the chute. He showed us how to read the very subtle yet meaningful hand signals and how to position our bodies, making sure we don’t flay our arms and legs. Any sudden moves in the air could send me and the man straddled to my back, spinning in the wrong direction. Yes, the man literally attached to my back like glue...in sky diving terms, “tandem.” Yeah...I wasn’t prepared to be that close to a stranger, now imagine the guys doing a tandem dive with male jump masters straddled to their backs...let me tell you, there’s nothing left to the imagination...I was really hoping that I wouldn’t feel anything extra, extra back there....ewhh!...and that the instructor loved his life as much as I did mine, to make sure our parachute was working properly. I must say that I really enjoyed watching the guys' reaction, realizing what was about to “happen.”Lol.. all the instructors were male, all the jumpers except for myself were guys and they were shit out of luck....there was a lot of nervous laughs and a lot of chest puffing...men...gotta love them!

Once “training” was done, it was time to attach to my life line and get on the very small, loud, smelly single turbine plane. We sat on the floor and waited as the plane climbed to 13,500 feet. As I sat there, I did a mental check list...Elton John looking goggles on, check...dorky cap on, check...narly instructor attached, check.....a lot of nervous men farting in the plane, check....GROSS!..really! When we had climbed to 13,500 feet, the door to the plane was opened, thank you, fresh air!...We stood up, waddled over to the door and waited...And then it was time to jump, to let go, to surrender, point of no return, deep breathe....GO! 

Air...air, in the form of wind forcefully smacking us, making it hard for me to smile as the skydiving photographer wanted me to. Yes, that's me in the pictures I've attached...There are no words, so I’ll try my best to describe the feeling of free falling really fast but feeling like I was suspended in the air for the longest time even though it actually was seconds. Time seemed to stand still, my world was quiet. My heart was bursting...seeing the world from this vantage point was magical...and I didn’t want it to end! For a few brief moments I had forgotten that I was attached to another human being...until I pulled the ripcord and our bodies jerked to a temporary stop....I was back to semi-reality, still falling but at a much slower pace and enjoying the view....happy to be alive, blood pumping through my veins.....spirit soaring, feeling like I was capable of accomplishing anything! Many people describe skydiving as a “rush.” For me it was more of a Zen experience. Those few seconds of free falling were the longest and the most connected I’ve ever felt....

So, to continue on  my journey of researching, here's a list of the things I would like to do in the near future....go race car driving, travel to Africa and help build a well, home or school and then go on Safari. On the Safari, I’d like to stay in a decked out tent or super fly tree house. I’d love to visit my best friend and soul sister L in Australia, scuba dive the Great Barrier Reef, chill in Byron Bay and Bondi Beach. Master Cha Cha Cha, On 2 and some shines. These are just a few desires that I have, can’t tell you all of them...have to keep a few juicy ones to myself...

Usually people wait for a tragedy or a life threatening disease to re-evaluate their lives. Don’t wait for a tragedy to do the things you have always longed to do. If you don’t know what interests you and gets your juices flowing, it’s time to “research.” Explore the things that interest you, try them out. If you like something, keep at it. If you don’t, let it go and try something else. Many things interest me...so I’m always taking courses, reading and/or exploring. I was asked once if I would ever stop taking courses or “researching” all that interests me. I answered, “NEVER!” I love to learn, explore, immerse myself in all things that bring me pleasure and joy. I will continue to explore and learn till the day I die.

in love and pleasure,

Margarita

Certified Health Counselor

The Twinkie Angel

Enjoying my life!

Soul Food

Yoga is my mind and body's soul food. My love affair with yoga started more than ten years ago. I don’t remember what prompted me to explore it.  What I do remember is going to the Integral Yoga Institute in New York and browsing in their book section after I had gotten the courage to enter this Mecca of spirituality. Even though, the staff was extremely friendly, offering me different class options and saying Namaste every chance they got, I was not ready to venture past the book section just yet....When I try anything new that has the potential to be life altering, I like to research my subject, feel it out and get familiar with any terminology used. So I bought a “how to yoga book” with lots of pictures and grabbed a schedule of classes and events.

As I walked to the train station through the grungy yet quaint West Village neighborhood, I remember being excited and wanting to jump right in and learn all that I could. But I wasn’t ready to expose my interest in yoga by reading the book on the train. Back then, yoga wasn’t as popular as it is now, with yoga studios literally everywhere.

As soon as I got home, I opened the book and completely immersed myself…days later, when I “thought” I knew enough, I started trying to imitate the poses in the pictures. Do you know how hard it is, reading the text, looking at the picture and trying to get your body in that position? Hard!..Frustrating and a bit discouraging, not at all what Yoga is about…Yoga can be a challenge but it should be a steady ascent to the Divine within you. I highly recommend that a newbie take a beginner’s class or workshop. One that slowly walks you through the poses and the breath before you attempt to follow a book or DVD, so you can learn the proper alignment and prevent any possible injuries. If you are too intimidated to even attempt a beginner’s class then take a few privates. Private instruction is tailored to your level and specific needs. It's a worthwhile investment since all the attention is solely on you. If you are on a budget, hire a student teacher, many of them need the practice and they are extremely eager to give you the best yoga experience at a rate that benefits you both.

 After taking a few classes, I was eager to expand and grow my yoga practice. I kept trying out different studios and teachers, to see which resonated with me.  The more classes I took, the more I was getting the nudge to explore the possibility of an in depth yoga training...maybe a teacher training? I wanted to learn enough of it, so that I could do my own sequence of poses at home. But a teacher training? I wasn't sure. So, I kept pushing the thought away. Just looking at some of the poses and the level of commitment required gave me anxiety.

 A few months passed and I was standing in some airport’s book store browsing. I can’t remember where I was going to or coming from. I love airport magazine stores...something about the look, feel and smell of new books and magazines makes my heart skip a beat. I usually buy a magazine that is filled with fluff pieces and lots of pictures. Something to distract me but not enough to keep me from falling asleep on the plane. So there I was, staring at the wall of magazines, zeroing in on the Yoga Journal publication, pretending I was looking at something else. I stood a safe distance away….toying with the idea...I walked away to another section, picked up a glossy picture filled magazine, trying to distract myself….it wasn’t working. I replaced the magazine and I went back to where the Yoga Journal was. I stared at it, willing it to give me answers…..”Should I buy it?….but I’m not the crunchy granola type...I’m more glam than crunchy….or am I?” As I picked up the magazine, I said in a low voice, “Ok, I’m officially the weirdo buying the Yoga Journal...” I practically ran to the cashier, paid for it and shoved it in my bag, casually looking around to see if anyone had “seen” me. But I was secretly dying to board the plane so that I could read it from cover to cover.

 When I started reading it, I got the chills. This was definitely what I wanted to do! In what capacity, I didn’t know but I knew I wanted to learn all there was to learn about yoga. I think I even got teary eyed but who knows, I could be making it up in my mind for dramatic effect. I folded over the corners of practically every page that contained interesting articles. I was vibing with the articles, the quotes, the pictures of the models in different twisty positions. I wanted to immerse myself in everything yoga! I specifically wanted to learn the basic poses so that I could replicate them at home. I also wanted to learn how to adjust myself in class, so that I could rely less on the teacher...since sometimes, the classes are so packed that it is impossible for the teacher to assist everyone.

After researching the different programs and different styles of yoga available in Manhattan, I found a studio, yoga style and program I liked. It was ISHTA Yoga, www.ishtayoga.com. I could do a one month long, 200 hour teacher training intensive. And if I wanted to learn even more, I could take the advanced training for an additional 300 hours. If I did both programs, it would be a total of 500 hours of teacher training. For the 200 hour training, I would be committing to five days a week from 8AM to 5PM and on some days until 9PM. The 300 hour training was a nine month program with classes held every weekend. I would basically be eating, sleeping and breathing yoga. And I would have to either quit my job or ask for a sabbatical….I had a lot to think about.

I decided to do some “recon” and take a few classes, to see if this place was for me. I started with one class, which I loved! And ended up going three times a week. In the beginning, I hurt in places I didn’t even know I could hurt. But I would walk out of class completely blissed out, loving the whole world. I stretched, lengthened and contorted my body in unimaginable ways. One of the side effects, was an improvement in my posture. I stood up straighter, and I looked and felt taller. And I fell in love with the studio and the teachers. But I was still undecided about doing the program…..Until I spoke with ML, a relatively new friend and one of my first champagne buddies. I told her about the yoga program and the concerns I had. She waited patiently until I finished and then said, “Margarita, you have to do this! You should see yourself when you talk about it, you light up! You can also hear it in your voice, there's a certain ring to it.”…..She was right, so I did it!....Greedy me, I did all 500 hours! Thank you ML!

I’m so grateful I did it! I met three of my best friends in the program and they have been my life line ever since. The program also blew my mind, strengthened my body and gave flight to my soul. 

One perk of the program, was an unlimited yoga pass. I could take as many classes as I wanted! I was going there practically every day. Yes, I was doing that much yoga...I remember one particular class; it was a level 2 class. We were already halfway through it. I had been so focused on my own breathing and correct alignment; I had failed to notice the pregnant woman diagonally in front of me. I probably didn’t notice because from behind you couldn’t tell she was pregnant. But she had to be at least in her 6th month…..I was impressed and inspired. I got back to focusing on my breathe for the rest of the class until the very end, when the teacher told us to get into a pose of our choosing before corpse pose, the last pose of the class where you get to do nothing  but close your eyes and relax....and if you are lucky the teacher comes and "massages" your forehead and neck with lavender essential oil. This is my favorite pose!....While I was still thinking which pose to do, I see the pregnant lady calmly doing a headstand in the middle of the floor, no assistance whatsoever…..Are you kidding me???...Wow! I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped to the floor while I was pretending not to look....I can’t do that and I’m not even carrying any extra weight.  I admit it, I was a tiny bit jealous....just a tiny bit...but then I thought, “Good for her!” She’s probably been doing yoga for a while and knows what her body is capable of...on the other hand, she probably can’t do other poses that I can easily do, whether it’s due to her condition or because her body is not flexible in certain ways that my body is. Eventually, I was the one doing a headstand, forearm stand...still working on my hand stand though...

We are all on different journeys; we should honor and respect that in ourselves and others. Just because we are “Grown Ups,” it doesn’t mean we should have it all figured out. We should go for what lights us up, like yoga did for me...You never know what will happen when you decide to go for “It" and step out of the box and out of your comfort zone…

in love and pleasure,

Margarita
The Twinkie Angel

Touch

You know how some days you just need a hug, just to feel a connection….human contact….We are so busy these days that even when we are around our friends and family, we rarely touch. In our society it is often taboo or even “bad manners” to be so touchy feely. 

A few weeks ago, I found myself craving a hug….a big man hug. I wanted that masculine protective energy wrapped around me that only a father or brother can give unconditionally, no strings attached. I wasn’t going to be around any of the men I trust and feel comfortable enough to ask for a platonic hug….What to do?

Then it hit me! I needed a massage from a male massage therapist. Yes! It had worked before. I picked up the phone and immediately made an appointment. What better way to have a man "show up." He has to be on time otherwise he’s fired, so he’s reliable by default. He does what I tell him to do…ok, because I pay him...small technicality...He has to completely satisfy me while keeping his hands in the designated “safe” areas.…and at the end of the service, I owe him NOTHING but a tip. I don’t need to massage him back, or take turns to make it “even.”….lol…And the only expectation I have, is to get a deeply relaxing massage....Before I go any further, let me just say that I also love female massage therapist because when I need nurturing, reassurance and compassion, they offer that and more. Their touch is very healing.

So, I booked a 75 minute treatment, fully taking advantage of spa month. For those of you, who have no idea what this is...it’s an amazing bargain! During certain times of the year when spas are experiencing low season,  these spas will offer their services at discounted prices. Even some of  the fancy spas do this, so if you’ve always wanted to go to one but thought it impossible, nothing is impossible! Not only do you get a great discount but you also get to enjoy all of the spa’s amenities…the sauna, steam room, lounging areas, pool…all of this is included in the discounted price!

My appointment was set for early in the morning. This particular spa is a hamam, Turkish style baths, with do it yourself hydrotherapy treatments. One of the do it yourself treatments is to submerge yourself in the jacuzzi and then immediately submerge yourself in the cold plunge pool, "shocking" the body into releasing toxins stored in our cells while also improving circulation. All I know is, that after I’m done, I’m sooo mellow and blissful….now can you imagine this combined with a massage? Heaven!

I wanted to arrive an hour early. Since I’ve been to the hamam many times before, I have a ritual that helps me get into the groove of things. I check in, get my robe and almost run to the deliciously warm marble floor. Yes, warm marble! You see there’s a tiered section right when you walk in that is heated marble, kept this way by hot water running under it...I disrobe…..yes, nothing under but my bathing suit!....forgot to mention the hamam is unisex, men and women share all the common areas. I grab two towels, place them on the floor and lie down. Ahhhh…I’m home…with my eyes closed, I adjust myself finding the perfect position. I take a deep breath in....and I slowly exhale....releasing any tension I might have…I breathe in again and exhale again, this time melting into the floor, letting the warm marble embrace me. I always fall asleep. For how long? I don’t know but it feels so good when I wake up and open my eyes. 

As luck would have it, on the day of my appointment, I forgot that school started an hour later! I no longer had the hour to luxuriate in the hamam before my massage. “Ugh! Not good, not good!”….and so my relaxing day was spiraling downward...into a stressful car race south bound on traffic jammed Biscayne Blvd. I could feel myself tighten up, barely breathing, telling myself, “relax, breathe, breathe….your timing is perfect.” I arrive….frazzled with a minute to spare, trying to look and feel calm. I’m told told that my massage therapist is running a few minutes late. Yes! Wait…is that going to cut my appointment short?….oh, It better not or someone is going to get it! Fortunately, it didn’t. I had time to put my robe on and relax a bit in the lounge area. No time for the warm marble but I could do that after.

I was greeted by Max, massage therapist extraordinaire. He asked me in an undeniable Italian accent, “Are you ready?”.....Oh, Yes, I’m so ready, massage me into submission please! He leads me to a  treatment room where the most heavenly music is playing, my favorite, Deva Premal’s chants.  I can already feel myself floating into the stratosphere as I lie on the table covered in the warmest of blankets, shielding me from the room’s cool air. Max starts, massaging, kneading and pressing, unraveling all the knots I have. He has “magic fingers.” His fingers seemed to be dancing on my back….swiftly, with the deepest pressure while still being gentle...How was he doing that? I was enjoying his touch, mentally complimenting him, saying, “that’s good, how about higher?” The next thing I know, he's massaging the very spot I was thinking of…What! No, has to be a coincidence…so I thought again, “Max a little to the left, please?” A few seconds passed and he moved to that spot! OMG! He can read minds, great! I don’t have to talk, I love it. I don’t know if he can read minds, or not….I believe he was just so in tune with my body, he knew what it needed.

After the massage portion of the treatment was over, he leads me to the hamam and he gives me water infused with lemon. He leaves me there, promising to return shortly.....When Max returns, he is carrying bowls filled with fragrant concoctions and he’s wearing a sarong?! Yep! A sarong….this should be interesting? In the name of self care, I surrender to this experience. I lie down in a bed of plush towels. There’s one for my head, one under my knees and quite a few under my body.  Let me tell you, if you are not use to receiving and being pampered, it can be a little weird and intimidating to have all that undivided attention on you. Thankfully, I’m all about self care and “researching” all kinds of self care rituals. So when he gently “threw” water on me, from my feet to my neck, prepping my body for the scrub, it was quite startling and hysterical at the same time. I kept my eyes tightly shut, to keep myself from laughing. Those of you who know me, know that I laugh at the drop of a hat. For me, not to bust out laughing, was a feat.  As I kept my eyes tightly shut, I thought, “this is one for the books! Now how can I surrender to the experience and enjoy the rest of the treatment?” After a few seconds, I had it! I’ll “be” Cleopatra! And Max can “be” one of my servants, giving me the royal treatment I deserve. Yes, I can totally do this! ...Cleopatra had it made. 

Using coconut milk and a small towel, Max started scrubbing my feet making his way to my neck. He scrubbed my legs, my belly….scrub, scrub, scrub….everything was perfect, until I started wondering how the pressure in his scrubbing had remained the same even though he was reaching from the bottom of my feet all the way to my arms, using his hands…..or was he?” “Oh, don’t look, don’t look, please don’t look! If you look, you’ll break the spell! Don’t do it!”….curiosity got the best of me, so I peeked with my right eye….."NO! Be Cleopatra, think Cleopatra! Breathe, oh please erase, erase the blurry image of Max scrubbing me with his foot!” I kept on telling myself not to think about it and to go back to pretending I was Cleopatra. It sort of worked. Thankfully, the treatment was over in a matter of minutes and I was washed down with water again.  Then Max walked me to a stainless steel bathtub filled with hot water and lavender salt crystals.  He held my hand as I got into the bath, immersing myself in the sweet aroma of lavender. The hands on part of the treatment was over. Aside from the small glitch with the “foot,” the whole treatment was fabulous! Max sure knows what he’s doing.

As I floated in the water, and I digested the whole experience, I thought…You can be married and touch starved. You can be having sex and still be starved for love, warmth and touch. Most of the times all we really need is a hug, a pat on the back or someone to really listen to us and “get us” at a deeper level. In my case, all I needed was a good massage, a chat with great friends and a truly sweet hug from my daughter. 


Remember to love up the people you care about...to ask for hugs and to give them more often.

in love and pleasure,

Margarita

The Twinkie Angel

If you are interested in a consultation, my monthly newsletter or to subscribe to my blog, go to my website: TheTwinkieAngel.com , click on the Contact tab and send me your information.

Forbidden Food

We are so hung up about what is forbidden, that we forget to enjoy ourselves. When I was a kid, forbidden things were like “don’t talk to strangers”...don’t eat candy from strangers....and on it went.....do you think we remembered and did what we were told?  No!

When the Mr. Softee ice cream truck came rolling down my street, playing its sweet jingle and I bolted down the stairs of my three story walk up, the only warning I got from my mom was, “Look before you cross the street!” I was allowed to indulge in any ice cream that Mr. Softee sold. My favorite was the chocolate ice cream cone dipped in chocolate sauce that would harden. It was fun, there was no pressure, just pure enjoyment.... 

A few years ago, I made ice cream my forbidden food. And it wasn’t because I was afraid of gaining weight....I’m lactose intolerant and if I eat too much, as in everyday, I suffer the consequences....bloating and feeling crummy. Not fun.....So where does the forbidden part come into play? I don’t remember the exact moment when it started but there I was....diving for Haagen Daz’s dulce de leche. I would be strolling down the supermarket aisles getting closer to the refrigerated case where the ice cream is kept and talking to myself in my head. I'd be saying, “NO, you can’t have ice cream, you know how it makes you feel after.”.....“Well if you buy the small one, it’s ok, plus you can share it.”  Guess which won out?....As soon as I was home, I would grab a spoon and dig for all the caramel not the ice cream because in my mind, I wouldn’t feel bad after...since I wasn’t really eating the ice cream. I’d be there in the kitchen kind of hiding, digging for all the caramel...smashing the ice cream from side to side in search for the gooey, sticky, syrupy sweet dulce de leche. Let’s just say that smashed up ice cream, that’s refrozen does not look appetizing or the slightest bit inviting to anyone else other than the one who did the smashing. Nobody wanted to share...oh well, more for me!.......which had been my intention all along.

Around the same time, I was taking a self growth course. One of the exercises was designed to “out” yourself and your forbidden food. Instead of eating your forbidden food in the corner of your kitchen with the lights out while everyone is sleeping, we were to invite “it” to the table in broad daylight....ok, how? The facilitator of the program asked us to pick a spot on our bodies and place the forbidden food there...and fully experience the food...its taste, smell and texture as we very slowly licked, nibbled and sucked it off our body. WHAT?!....was she crazy? How does she expect me to do that with ice cream?....  

Just thinking about it made me feel exposed and silly but then I thought, why not? I have an “open mind,” I’m willing to try things once. I started sitting at the table but that didn’t seem fitting...I moved over to the cool granite counter, I looked around to see if anyone was watching me, impossible since no one was home...I scooped a bit of ice cream and before it melted I placed it on my forearm, no easy feat...I closed my eyes and took my time just as the exercise had demanded, after I was done, I was laughing, smiling, in awe that a simple exercise like the one I had just done, had such a euphoric effect....Interesting? The one teaspoon of ice cream had been enough. While I was reflecting on what I had just done, my cell rang....it was my then newly minted boyfriend....I tried to sound as “normal” as possible, a bit hard while smiling from ear to ear....I had a yummy secret! He could tell something was up by hearing my voice, he’s professionally trained to notice these things....and if I lied, he could tell that too....So, I came clean and told him. He was more intrigued than shocked and wanted to see for himself but I told him that the exercise was done for my benefit and I wouldn’t be repeating it...maybe.

Fast forward to a week later.....I had completely forgotten about the whole ice cream thing. We were out to dinner, the waiter comes around and asks if we want dessert. He looks at me and says, “how about ice cream?” Huh?...ice cream?...oh ice cream..oh no! Are you kidding? NO WAY!..WHAT?!....well, if I’m doing it purely for my enjoyment...what am I saying?!, oh screw it, ok. All these thoughts were running through my mind with the facial expressions to match....

Regaining my composure, I asked the waiter if he could bring chocolate syrup and strawberries with the ice cream. I looked around the restaurant and as far as I could see, there were no other customers in our section...was I really going to do this?! Oh yeah....the waiter comes back, places the ice cream between us, I notice that they’re three strawberries and a dollop of chocolate syrup. Come on! Did they run out or what? The waiter is about to leave when my BF tells him, “you should see what she does with ice cream? Before I had time to react, the waiter pulls out the chair across from me, sits down and says, “ok, I’m ready.” WHAT???!!!! He’s so dead!...I can not believe he just told the waiter and the waiter is sitting across from me while my BF sits next to me with a huge grin on his face. Fine, I can do this! And I’m going to enjoy every minute of it, ha!...I take a deep calming breathe, scoop a very small amount of the already melting ice cream, place it on the top of my right wrist and close my eyes. I cleared every thought in my mind and any noise around me, it was just me and the decadent, creamy rich ice cream which I slowly licked and sucked until there was not even a drop left on my wrist. I wasn’t trying to recreate an adult film scene, I wasn’t looking for approval, I did it for my enjoyment. It was more of a challenge to myself...being able to enjoy myself no matter where or with whom I’m with....When I was finally done, I slowly opened my eyes and looked at my rapt and speechless audience. All the waiter could do was get up and leave...quickly returning with a huge plate of strawberries and a saucer full of chocolate syrup, as a bonus. He also told us, we didn’t have to give him a tip, that watching me was tip enough and then he invited us to visit him in Italy for the summer.

I can honestly say that after that, I didn’t feel the need to have ice cream in the house and shortly after...I gladly gave up ice cream made out of dairy. It was just not worth having my body complain about it.

Unless, it’s harmful to us and/or detrimental to our health, why stop ourselves from fully enjoying our favorite “forbidden foods” in small quantities. The more we avoid something, the more we are drawn to it and the more it comes at us full force. Why “fight” it, embrace it instead, you may no longer find your self craving it as much or even at all. So, go and experiment with yourself or a partner, just be careful where you put the “food”.....you don’t want to end up in the EMERGENCY ROOM!...explaining to the nurses and doctors why you’re there.....but if you do end up in the ER, please share the story with me! I promise I won’t post it, unless you give me permission to....lol

Cravings come in many forms. Recently, I was craving human touch in the masculine form, a platonic hug to be precise....I got something even better!....tell you next time....

in love and pleasure,

Margarita

The Twinkie Angel

If you are interested in a consultation, my monthly newsletter or to subscribe to my blog, go to my website: TheTwinkieAngel.com , click on the Contact tab and send me your information.