You're Rubbing Me the Wrong Way

I could be wrong but I thought after a massage you were supposed to walk out feeling relaxed and energized. Why is it I felt like I had gone 12 rounds with Mike Tyson?

I never get massages. If I’ve had 10 in my entire life I would be surprised. Not that I don’t love them...I do. I just figure I should probably support my kids and give them every last dime I have before I ever do anything for myself. (I’m hoping they read this so I can instill that guilt I was taught every Jewish mother should do.) So this was going to be a real treat. My daughter and I each got one as a gift for Christmas and decided to go together. [I know some of you are thinking...’didn’t she just say she was Jewish?’] We made an appointment for Saturday morning and I was looking forward to it all week. We had talked about maybe getting them side by side in the same room and how fun that might be. A time to bond even more.

After looking for a parking space for 15 minutes, [the search already causing tension in my neck, so I knew I was heading to the right place] we finally found one somewhat within walking distance to the spa. I guess a little exercise hiking there prior to being pampered couldn’t hurt. We walked into the lobby to a very plush, poo poo spa while Muffy, the receptionist at the front desk, eyed us up and down.  “Can I help you, ladies?” Turn down that nose of yours and then maybe we can talk. “Yes, we have a 10 o’clock appointment for a massage. We were hoping to have them done together so do…” and before I could even finish my sentence, Brunhilde came marching out and swept me into the back. I guess that answered any question I had of having one with my daughter.

“Zere’s a changing room. Take off all your clothes and put on zee robe,” she said in her very thick accent. I felt like I walked into an episode of Hogan’s Heroes.  “Is it ok if I leave...” “I said take off all your clothes...Please.” Ja...Frau-scary-person...no problem. If I wasn’t tense before...I sure was then. I walked out after changing and she directed me into my quiet place.

What is it about that music that all I want to do is scream Turn that shit off!?  I understand why they play soothing music to relax you...but I think they should ask which type of soothing music we prefer. Not being into meditation or yoga or Reiki or whatever it is that they play that crap for...I have never found an appreciation for that specific flute type that they invariably play for me. I should probably speak up and ask for something else...some type of soothing jazz would be better than the shit I always get. But there it was and I just went with it.

“Remove your robe and get under the sheets, please.” Uh...are ya leavin’ the room?  She...or he...or whatever it was, walked out. I lay face down on the table and...Uh oh...where the hell was the hole for my face? I mean, there was the head rest but she had a paper sheet over the hole so that there was no way I could breathe. My claustrophobia was starting to take control. Shit...I wanted to relax...not be in panic mode through my 50 minutes of supposed bliss. Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose? But it was loose enough to give it a try. There was a touch of air seeping in.

I let Fraulein Hildy know that I only wanted my back, shoulders and neck massaged because, since my shoulder surgery, I’m quite knotted up and would prefer her to spend the time kneading those out. Besides, my legs tend to get somewhat ticklish at times, so I wanted to stick to what I knew worked. She didn’t have a problem with that, surprisingly enough, yet lowered the nice, warm sheets well below my butt. Ummmm...I know quite well that my ass over the years has definitely not lifted. If anything...I would now consider it part of my upper thighs...so what part of only massaging my back did you not get? But again...I didn’t say anything.

“Vould you like hard pressure?” Stupidly...I said yes. And off she went. I don’t think Atlas had stronger, more powerful hands than this woman. (Or man...or whatever she was underneath her frock.) Are you f**king kidding me? OUCH. And shut that f**king music off. It’s driving me crazy. I see you found the knots in my shoulders. That’s right, dig deep. And keep digging because not only can’t I breathe in this f**king headrest, my nose is so f**king stuffed from lying on my stomach, when I swallow my ears are now clogged up. Why can’t I breathe? And stop digging in that one knot....move on already. I can’t f**king breathe or hear...shit. GET OFF ME!

Ok...whew. She moved down a little further to the middle of my back. “Do you need a tissue?” as she heard me trying to get one tiny little molecule of air up my nose. “No, I’m ok (sounding like Fran Drescher) but do you think you could cut an opening in this paper please. I’m getting really claustrophobic and can’t breathe because my nose is totally stuffed.” I could hear her thinking to herself...’zis viney, complaining, spoilt voman...I’ll show her who’s boss here.’ So she cut a teeny, tiny opening for the smallest vent you can imagine. Gee, thanks, Gretel. Let me suck the air through the pinhole into my mouth since nothing is getting up my nostrils anyway. I thought I would start hyperventilating but I held it together. My mouth was starting to feel like the Sahara but I was quite proud of myself for staying somewhat calm, although it totally ruined my relaxation.

And there she goes again. Who knew I had that many f**king knots in my back? And Bertilda seemed to find every freakin’ one of them. And dug…and dug deeper. I have a certain area in my back that when touched, I jump and jerk. Meinhilde wasn’t too pleased with me when I jerked so hard elbowing her in the gut. Who’s showing who now, Junge Frau? I did apologize though. I felt badly when her gum went shooting out of her mouth.

She started working on my arms rubbing them and pulling gently by my fingertips. The hand massage was heavenly.  I was surprised she was so much gentler on my arms than she was on my back until Conan the Barbarian took over her body. Hey…Sieghild…you’re pulling the shit out of my arms. I hear my f**king tendons snapping, for god’s sake. I’m sure my square shoulders are now slumped since you relocated them half way down my body. Oh my god…who knew the muscles in my arms could be moved in directions that don’t fall under the scope of human kindness. She was kneading and rubbing and kneading some more. You would have thought I was going to be her next loaf of bread. Stop it. OUCH! And turn that f**king music off. I was worried that by the time she was done, my arms were so stretched that my hands would be hitting the floor. At least I wouldn’t have to bend over to put my shoes on. However, I’m not sure which species of apes I would fall under.

Is this f**king thing over yet? I felt like I had been in that torture chamber for hours…but from what I could tell…there was a little time left. She had me turn over, but before she put warm compresses over my eyes, I noticed two parallel bars suspended from the ceiling. What the hell? “I hang from dos and valk on people’s backs. Vould you like dat?” Yeah…sure I would, Nurse Diesel. And will you be changing into your bondage outfit, too, you freakazoid? I don’t think so.

Holy shit! I thought I heard my skin sizzle. What the f**k? “Is that too hot?” Ya think? Did you not see half my skin slide off my body? I hope you have some extra skin around for grafting. What are those?  “They are hot rocks. Too hot?” Uh…YEAH! Get them the hell off me. “I’ll let them cool a little.” Oh…geez…thank you so very much Satan.

Once they cooled she rubbed them along my body and they actually felt good. Not good enough to make up for the rest of the torturous treatment, but good nonetheless. While they sat on my body making lasting tattoo marks, she massaged my head. With lotion. Oh…I should be looking pretty good when I leave here with my hair matted down like Alfalfa. But it did feel great.

“Ok…I want to thank you so much for choosing me for your massage. It was a pleasure serving you today and I hope you’ll come back.”

First of all…I didn’t choose you. Secondly…not only will I never allow you to touch me again…but can you please ask them to bring in the stretcher to cart me off?

Today is Sunday. I’ve had a day to recuperate, but you know how it takes a day or two to feel the results of a strenuous workout? Well…I’m feeling the results, all right. I don’t have one body part that can move independently of the others. I can’t lift my arms. My shoulders are hunched up around my ears. My lower back has pain like I’ve never known.

My next appointment is in 3 weeks. I can’t wait!