Last week I had one of those days – one of those days when I couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry at all of the absurd things that had gone wrong.

On top of the plethora of crap I had to deal with, my back tightened, my shoulders ached and my feet hurt from the 4-inch heels I must wear daily. It was the ultimate pity party for me.

Don’t judge. You know you’ve had them, too.

After dropping off my daughter at yet another afternoon practice, I daydreamed as I drove to my next errand. Ahh, wouldn’t it be nice to take an hour just for me – no kids, no husband, no work, no cleaning? Just an hour all about me. Maybe a quick massage would do the trick.

Then the pity party resumed as I considered how much a one-hour massage would cost. Basically, it would cost me a few days’ worth of groceries.

Poor me, left to suffer with the stress and pain of the average woman.

As I pulled into a neighborhood strip mall, a sign captured my attention. “Happy Foot.” Hmm. Happy Foot? I sat, staring at the sign. Is this one of those places where things aren’t supposed to end “happy” legally?

I watched as a clean-cut gentleman went in. Interesting, I thought. I pulled out my handy-dandy iPhone and looked up “Happy Foot” on Yelp. I was shocked at the overwhelmingly positive reviews it had received.

Two things really jumped out at me: “Clean” and “1 hour for $25.” What, $25? Since I’ve always been a Four Seasons type of girl, I’m used to paying more than $25 just for the tip.

My curiosity got the best of me. I had to call and see if they could get me in. The woman on the phone spoke in broken English, but I was able to understand. She asked if I could be there in 10 minutes. Considering I was parked outside the door, it wasn’t an issue.

For the next 10 minutes I observed the comings and goings of the establishment, trying to read the faces of the customers. They looked legit. Maybe I had watched to many movies, and just the word “happy” in conjunction with the word “massage” was taking my mind to the gutter.

Ten minutes went quickly and before I knew it, it was time to make my move.

Walking in, I got that first-day-of-school feeling in my stomach. Hospital-type curtains hung from the ceiling and I was unable to see past the small reception area.

I was promptly and quietly greeted and was asked to follow the receptionist to the back. As the curtains were withdrawn, the headlines flashed in front of my eyes: “Local mom arrested for prostitution at local massage parlor.” Oh man, what had I gotten myself into?

Low-lying chairs were positioned throughout the small room. There were about eight chairs, and most were filled with people in the process of getting “happy.” All had their faces covered, so there was no way of knowing who was in the room.

For me, this was a little creepy. It was so dark, too, that it added to the creep factor.

The receptionist gestured for me to sit. I was not given any further instruction, but it was clear that I was to remove my shoes. (It was either remove my shoes or run like hell.)

A fight went on in my head between the good and the bad. Part of me loved the excitement of the unknown, while the other part told me I should never stay in an uncomfortable situation.

For whatever reason, the bad girl in me won, and I stayed. I was too intrigued to leave.

A little woman came out and instructed me by hand motions to put my feet in a warm basket of water. Some type of herbal bag was floating in the water. It seemed harmless so far.

She smiled, and I think it was to ease my fear – it must have been written all over my face. She had me lie back, and she started to massage my temples, neck and face. My mind was racing. I thought this was a foot massage parlor. What is going on?

Within a moment, I was lost in pure ecstasy. For the next 50 minutes or so, I was given the best massage I’ve ever had. I quickly forgot about the room full of people and the stress of the day. The masseuse spent most of the time on my feet and ankles. Oh, and my toes!

Once done, I was tapped on the shoulder and the towel was removed from my eyes. As I started to get up, the masseuse gestured for me to stay and dropped my chair down, turning it into a bed. I was then told to turn over and lay on my stomach. For another 10 minutes I had the most amazing massage.

Afterward, little was said to me, and I did what I assumed I was supposed to do. I gathered my shoes and went to the reception area where I put them on and paid – $25.

If you are looking for a luxury spa, this is not the place for you. If you are looking for a kick-ass massage for an insanely affordable price, then Happy Foot is just the ticket. Happy Foot really did give me a very “happy ending.”

Tami Edwards is SCVTV’s sales director. Happy Foot Spa is located at 25866 McBean Parkway in Valencia.