Massage Masochism

Right between my shoulder blades and about 2” up has been killing me since last weekend. I know this because Whit asked me to pinpoint the when and what I was doing to make it uncomfortable for this long. I was visiting Josh and no, I wasn’t doing “that”… at least I don’t think that’s what it was from.

Whit visited her friend all day and night yesterday for her friend’s birthday so I had the whole day and house to myself. What’s the best thing to do when you’re by yourself? No, not “that”. I booked myself a spa appointment. The massage was lacking in every aspect and my neck, back and shoulders still hurt. God I LOVE blowing $100 on nothing, don’t you?

So Whit got back today and was unable to sleep at her friend’s house. She’s a light sleeper and apparently had to sleep on her friend’s couch. Her friend’s dog is about the sweetest German shepherd you’ll ever meet and didn’t want my poor sister to be alone in the room so he plopped down on the floor below the couch and slept there. He’s a sleep talker which apparently kept her up most of the night.

Long story epic, we both felt like we needed a massage today and we sort of got one.

We’d never been to this place before. No, scratch that – Whit had been there before when it was under its former management. She got a massage from a 3” stiletto wielding tranny whose long finger nails kept stabbing her in the back. This should be the part of the story where I say “… and that’s why we laughed and drove somewhere else and had a fabulous experience and lived happily ever after.”

I scoff in logic’s general direction; scoff, scoff, scoff!

The appointment was for 4 o’clock. The receptionist didn’t speak English very well so when the reservation was made for 2 people for 1 hour each at 4 o’clock, we were surprised to arrive and be escorted to a joint room for the lovers’ package. Somehow this did not put my sister or me in the mood. But no problem, we’ve known each other our entire lives, it’s cool we can deal with this.

We got undressed and hopped up on to our individual respective massage tables and waited for our massage therapists to come in. When they did, Whit explained to each of them that she needed a soft touch as she has extremely sensitive muscles and skin and I needed someone to beat the crap out of me. They started. Here’s the summary:

Whit’s gal was a spider monkey ninjasian. She was all over the place, and at one point I swore I looked over and she was sporting “the crane”. Whit said she had “thumbs of fury” and she could never tell when or where super ninja spider monkey massage lady would strike next.

My massage therapist you ask? Ah yes, her. When she was told I like it hard… no, not “that”, she assumed the people’s elbow was in order. I finally smelled what the Rock was cookin’. Unfortunately the pressure was in all the wrong places and my neck, back and shoulders still hurt. My ass on the other hand has no stress whatsoever. Wanna know why? Tell you why. She must have thought my Kardashean sized keister was so big because that’s where I keep my stress (even though I assured her it was my neck and shoulders) because a good 20-30 minutes of my massage was spent rubbing my bum. I kept wanting to whisper to Whitney – “umm where’s YOUR towel?” And of course every time I thought this, I started giggling which made my massage therapist press down harder in the wrong spots.

In every massage I’ve ever had, the therapist will move the privacy towel around as to make sure the client isn’t exposed for some, if any of the time spent there. The privacy towel was a mere laughable suggestion. That, or she thought the backs of my knees and calves were shy. I thought to myself “so this must be what Neverland Ranch feels like”.

After an hour long assperience, Whit and I couldn’t get to the car fast enough to share our thoughts and hysterical fits of laughter. I’ll never go back but I’m kind of glad I went. My neck, back and shoulders are still killing me but at least I still have my prid- umm my dignit- umm, my health. Did I mention I’ve got my health?