Item in the local paper today about beating the winter blahs:

Get naked at… a women-only spa… Indulge yourself with a 90-minute body wash: they exfoliate your skin with freshly-grated ginger,sugar and cardamom, then pour hot milk over your body… Close your eyes and suddenly you’re in Scandinavia.

Gosh, that would be nice!

But, alas, they’d never let me in there… it’s women-only.

Suddenly, peaceful thoughts of Swedish bliss give way to the not-so-subtle anxiety of politics, and then to wishes that I could shut my mind up once in a while.

In the end, however, though others may feel differently, I accept my exclusion from this spa with equanimity.

I know that it would be impossible to accommodate me and the very few others like me without making uncomfortable a sizable number of the women who go there and thereby destroying their business.  In today’s society and with today’s sensibilities, this type of facility could not exist on those terms.

I am exceedingly thankful for the freedoms I do have and feel no compelling need to have my way in every place at every time.

Maybe I am missing some of the wider implications, but I accept the practical limits on my rights and hope for the day when, through education and familiarity, gender fluidity becomes more accepted and more comfortable.

In the meantime, I doubt that this kind of thing is worth creating a fuss.  I figure it is better to concentrate on mainstream acceptance in mainstream activities, even if the thought of a main-stream of hot white milk over my exotically spiced body sets my heart aflutter.

Ho hum…