Waking up gasping every night?
Maybe you just need breathing room.
No, seriously. A breathing room, specifically. In what’s now becoming a long list of “shiz Ashley never knew ’cause she’s outta the loop”, we can apparently add this soporific form of therapy called: “breathing rooms”. Or “salt breathing rooms”, if you like. Or “halotherapy” (“halo-” means salt, btw #themoreyouknow). Whatever you dub it, the point of this spa based respiratory remedy is to alleviate all those breathing related maladies we suffer that make sleep an exercise in vexation.
(When you’ve gotta halotherapy client at ten, and an Illuminati sacrifice ceremony at noon…)
And what is it exactly? It’s basically just a room infused with salty air. (Although, I personally like how exotic it sounds when they make sure to call it “Himalyan Pink Salt” – it makes you feel like it’s just been flown in from a mountain that afternoon, specially Fed Ex’d just for you – instead’ve scooped up from last year’s pile in the stockroom). What you do is simply go inside, marinate amongst the vapors for about half an hour, and then put it to the test of rest later. And what’s it meant to do? Basically knock off all those nocturnal oxygen ingesting issues you’ve been enduring – from wheezing to sneezing to snoring. That said, while you’re in there, the immediate effects are less pleasant, according to some. In fact, one woman reported a “tightening” in her throat and chest area. Naturally, the profeshes working there told her, “Oh, that’s just a sign it’s working.” And, while my immediate knee-jerk, eye-roll reaction was to think, “Psssh, yeah, that’s what Cady told Regina about the Kaltene bars and now she wears sweatpants and neck braces”, this is apparently one of those cases where it holds true. Because, despite the discomfort mid-treatment, peeps sleep soundly post halotherapy. The same chick who’d complained about constriction was dozing delightfully that night.
So, that’s all fantastic news.
Now, all I need to know is when I can install one of these rooms in the mansion I don’t have. That way, I can lounge around all day, auditorily dining on spa tunes emanating through my P.A. system, and probably making myself sick when I overdo the recommended dose of exposure. Lovely as that all sounds, unfortunately, that might be slightly cost prohibitive. But what you and I can do is buy one’ve these breathing bongs:
“What, Shaggy? It helps me sleep…”
“Duuuude, haha, so does miiiiine.”
The idea’s essentially the same as the place you pay to sit in for half an hour. You still get the antiseptic, antibacterial, antifungal, and antiviral effects to protect epithelial cells. You still get the inflammation reduction (by grouping mucus to be ejected out super-sexily later). And, in some cases, folks with everything from asthma to endocrine issues saw improvement post therapy. The possibilities are apparently endless – whether you do it at home or at that candle-lit, pan-flute tune playing place down the road. The only diff? Well, in my shizzy apartment, there’s none of the pampering or napping or mental holiday away from my hovel filled with bills and to-do lists just a half foot away from where I’m having a panic attack into a buzzless peace pipe packed full’ve Morton’s organic cousin. That’s all. If you’re good with that, then you’re golden settling for the poor man’s version.
So the next time your less than stellar sleep’s got you acting like a salty satan, get your “halo” back.
And try sucking a salt pipe…. or forking over a couple’ve Tubmans for the spa experience.
