On account of my soreness from my extreme sports (golf) activity this past weekend,
I decided to get a massage today.
I love massages. But I don't get them often. They're a novelty to me.
They're right up there with facials and Dove ice cream bars.
The spa I went to was very... Buddah-ish feeling. Incense was burning, everybody talked in hush voices, and they gave me Jesus sandals to wear because "outdoor shoes aren't tolerated in the relaxation tent."
The relaxation tent was a big room with weird canopied sheets hanging over the ceilings where I was sent to relax before my massage. As if the massage wouldn't be relaxing enough...
So I sat and smelled the incense, sipped on my cucumber water, and listened to the middle eastern music while wondering what I was supposed to be doing to relax. It's not that I can't relax. I just don't like to be told to relax. So I started tapping my fingers, and cracking my toes and wondering how much longer I'd have to sit in this "tent" staring at my brown lesbian sandals thinking I should have gotten a pedicure.
This is the image from their website of the tent room, naturally I wasn't allowed to bring my phone in (too non-relaxing) to take my own photo. Although, it wasn't nearly as bright when I sat in there in all alone. So you can imagine why I was waiting for rabbit blood to run from the ceiling at any moment.
Finally a very calming spirit, "Lola," came and got me and led me down a hallway lined with stones. She told me she ready to go on my journey with me. Suddenly I felt like India Jones being led into the lost temple. And here I thought I just came in for a back rub.
Our journey went something like this,
Lola instructed me to undress, at which point I told her I'd be most comfortable if she did the same. Ha. I'm kidding, but I've always wanted to respond with something like that. And then I was to slip in between the sheets on the massage table.
So I did just that- took off my clothes and then jumped under the blankets as fast as physically possible just like I do at the doctor office.
Lola returned and started working her magic, touching me only on top of the sheets though. I knew this over-the-sheet trick. When you don't want to touch someone you put something in-between you and them. I pulled this trick 1000 times when I was a lifeguard and weirdos wanted me to apply their lotion. How dare she? Did she think I was a weirdo?
Was I weirdo? Like I said, I don't get massages often, but I was pretty certain the last time I did it was skin-to-skin. But I couldn't dare ask that, what kind of perv says,
"um, I like to feel your touch on my skin." I feel like Sandusky just typing that. But I swear that's normal...
It was. Turns out, Lola was just warming up. In no time she got right into the good stuff and it felt like she had 100 hands running rolling pins over my back. Each knot she went over felt like a bone was breaking. I'm going to be in pain tomorrow. But isn't that how you know a massage is good? When it hurts more the next day? Or maybe that's just the sadistic massuses I always happen to go to.
So yeah, that was my "day at the spa."Tomorrow will be my "day pedaling Kam and I's children book around Chicago boutiques." Should make for some interesting stories.
