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Byline: Dany Levy
Three days of nonstop spa treatments sound like the ultimate fantasy. So why couldn't one woman wait to escape?
If gluttony is one of the seven deadly sins, I am definitely going to hell in a handbasket.
Make that a spa robe.
I'm booked for a three-day stay at the Mayflower Inn & Spa in Washington, Connecticut, and I'm having a field day deciding my schedule. Because here's the deal: At this impossibly luxurious spa, it's all-inclusive. Meaning you can get as many spa treatments as you want during your stay. Meaning all facials, all the time. Back-to-back massages. Soaks until you're shriveled up like a tiny prune. It's the spa version of the "all you can eat" concept, which may be tempting in theory, but in reality, well, everyone knows what it feels like to overdo it at the buffet.
And I am about to really overdo it. I'm scheming the spa equivalent of the Denny's Lumberjack Slam.
It was yet another of the seven deadly sins, lust, that brought me here. I drooled over my keyboard as I scoped the Mayflower website, contemplating my options. How many treatments can I fit into 72 hours? Will there be time to eat? Can I eat during a massage?