Massage Therapy

I ran yesterday for the first time in 3 weeks…ah, it felt so good. Matt treated me to a massage on Friday at a day spa, and it made all the frou frou difference. I consider “pampering myself” a run in the woods instead of the neighborhood, but my back’s been killing me, and I know he’s just trying to get me healthy so I can help lift boxes. I’m on to him.

The atmosphere of a massage makes me giggle. The rooms are dimly lit with soft George Winston-esque music playing and scented candles burning. Hold a crystal if you want, but I think it's silly. It’s a tranquil, romantic setting…and then the chubby girl enters the room.

My massage therapist was very kind and soft spoken, like a good massage therapist should be. She whispered everything. With great acuity, I took pleasure in throwing her off by answering in a normal tone, and asking her lots of questions.

I was congested because I caught Matt’s cold (clearly, he owed me this massage), and the room was freezing. She’d put hot, wet towels on me, which was great at first, but while she was busy rubbing my neck and getting gooey oil in my hair (it’d been a perfect hair day until then), they’d cool and I’d be left shivering.

I told that her my lower back needed special attention, but these people are systematic and must go in order: head, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes, so I took it in stride. I was half-naked, after all, so who was I to complain? After a while, however, I thought, “Stop fiddling with my ears and rub my damned back!” She rubbed a stone around on my stomach, the final straw, and finally she told me that I could turn over.

Lying on my back wasn’t problematic because I was still breathing through both nostrils, but when she had me turn on my stomach and plant my face in the head cubby, my body became tense with the fear that my nose would run. I couldn’t relax. Oh, gentle irony, you’re never lost on me.

The more I lay there, the more the pressure built in my sinuses, until finally I had to breathe with my mouth open, thus creating more tension from the angst of possibly drooling. This really sucked.

My back is better, though, and I have the sweet caress of a girl I never knew to thank for it (and Matt, of course). For a small price (actually, these appointments are quite expensive), Matt got his running partner and heavy lifter back.