I've been a fanatic about massages since I worked in Santa Monica. I'd try to schedule time at the Burke-Williams Spa once or twice a year and get myself worked over. I never minded getting naked under a sheet and letting a stranger massage me because I knew I'd probably never see the person again anyway unless I went back a year later and happened to have the same masseuse.
You see, I'm a little self-conscious about human contact. Not sure why. It took years for me to get comfortable just hugging a friend. When I was a teen, one of my classmates was commenting about how pale I was and as she tried to put her arm next to mine to compare, I recoiled as if she was going to bite. So yeah, getting to the hugging phase was a big jump for me.
That being said, I'm not as bad as txrad. He was supposed to go with me today and get a massage. It was initially his idea, but that was under the influence of alcohol a couple of weeks ago.
Whenever I think of txrad getting a massage, I think of Alvy Singer in Annie Hall.
I never shower in a public place, 'cause I don't like to get naked in front of another man...I don't like to show my body to a man of my gender.
I knew it! It wasn't because txrad was concerned about our finances; he had about $1800 in dental work done yesterday, uninsured. txrad doesn't like to show his body to anyone of any gender! And I'm not crazy about the idea either, but a massage is like going to the doctor. You have to cast aside most of your modest proclivities and let them do their work.
I really like to focus on nothing but my breathing while getting a massage. I try to become a rag doll and let them fold me into whatever origami shape will make me feel better afterward. I don't think I've ever experienced pain or discomfort while being massaged and today was no exception. Perhaps if I were focused on the work being done I might think, "oh, that was intense," but by maintaining my concentration on my breathing, the work becomes something happening in the background, and it's all good.
Needless to say, when I got home, txrad asked me how it went. I told him it was wonderful. I felt intoxicated immediately after the massage. My brain had turned to mush and I could barely initiate sensible speech.
On the drive home I felt as if I were out of my own body, light as the wind, and just going with the flow.
txrad asked, "did she make you get undressed?"
At this point I knew where this was going. She didn't MAKE me get undressed but I was asked to take off my clothes and get under the sheet. Part of me was hoping she wouldn't because this was not an anonymous masseuse in Santa Monica, but a friend and fellow-blogger. But the wiser part of me knew I had to get with the program because if I wanted an effective massage, I couldn't allow my modesty to interfere, not could I focus on it or stress about it during the massage. That would defeat the purpose.
So I answered his question. "Yes, she did. And I had some major knots in my butt cheeks."
I sometimes like to get txrad wound up. But seriously, I am amazed at how all the body parts and problems are tied together. I've often had problems at the base of my spine and just below it... my "butt bone" as I call it. But I don't think I've ever thought of my ass cheeks as being muscle tied in with everything else. A deep butt cheek massage is something you can feel in your neck, legs and feet. And you should.
I don't like getting a massage on a full stomach so I didn't each lunch until mid-afternoon. On my way home I stopped at Schlotzskys and I was starving. Then I ran over to Home Depot because I've been craving a viewing of floor tiles for the kitchen.
As I was getting out of the car I noticed my shorts were unzipped. Oops. At least I was wearing underwear today. So much for modesty.
txrad: that's because you walk around the house all the time with your pants unzipped.
konagod: no, it's because my brain turned to mush and I was trying to gather all my belongings.
txrad: you could be stopped somewhere and get into trouble. there are people who get arrested for that.
konagod: i'd say i just had a massage and was out of my mind. oops, i forgot to put on underwear and i forgot to zip my pants. what can i say, i'm forgetful. pot does that.
Sounds like a good excuse. Anyway, at this point you're probably wondering where the red wine vinegar comes into play.
Seventh Sister said she had something she wanted to give me before I leave. So I got this red wine vinegar starter kit. I just need to sterilize the big jar on the left, then dump the red wine from the jar on the right into it, add some of my own red wine, and stash away for 90 days, with a towel fastened to the top to allow the contents to breathe.
Oh, and I also scored some homemade soap, and some clippings from a plant which I can start.
Not a bad haul for getting healed. I always think of the bucks spent for a massage as being a splurge. Far from it.
Crossposted at Big Brass Blog, home of the big brass knockers!
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