I finally sucked it up and booked my first massage in FOUR YEARS… eeeek! It’s long overdue and much-needed. Case in point: a guy I worked with once squeezed my shoulders then pulled back shocked and said “HOLY SHIT! You’re either really built or really tense.” And yes, it’s the latter.
My last massage was memorable because it took place in Biarritz, France. My room mate and I had found cheap tickets to the resort area back when we lived in London and decided to spend a long weekend getting pampered and hanging out at the beach. We booked massages, scrubs, body wraps et al at a very fancy spa along the beach.
Halfway through the process I began to feel like a very expensive piece of meat - I was getting salt rubbed into my skin, basted with seaweed and wrapped in tinfoil and being placed into an oven of sorts. Creepy.
After being made into a rather delectable cut of meat, it was time for my massage. Being modest, I donned the paper underoos they handed me and laid a towel across my bum for extra coverage. The rather foreboding looking masseuse came into the room, looked at my covered bum, cackled in an extremely evil way, and whipped the towel off of my ass and then smacked it for good measure.
It was then that I knew I was in for something… special?
After that little incident, the massage went along just fine… until the masseuse motioned for me to turn over onto my back. Mais, pardon? You really want me to turn over - completely topless? Needless to say, there was a bit of a language barrier - she didn’t understand my concept of modesty (this was France, after all) and pretty much pushed me onto my back with a shake of her head and a roll of the eyes that said "Fille stupide Americain".
It took me a few minutes to let go of my modesty issues and all was well again… until la messeause began to squirt hot oil all over my naked chest. I went into a state of sheer terror, screaming “NO!!! NO!!! NO!!!” in my head… and then she did it… she began massaging my chest. As in, like, the type of chest massage that should only ever be done by your significant other.
Needless to say, I was shocked. So shocked in fact, that I began laughing hysterically. And I couldn’t stop. No matter how hard I tried, I could not control my laughter. I laughed so hard that my room mate could hear me outside of the room… and I inevitably scared my masseuse who looked at me like I was some sort of sicko and very abruptly ended the massage.
So needless to say:
A) Don’t ever get a massage in France
B) I’m nervous about tomorrow’s massage.
Nonetheless, it will be good to relax before classes start up again next week…. eeek! FT work, FT school - looks like I should book my follow-up massage STAT.