Boobless Massage

Today is my blog’s birthday.

I love Rubber Shoes In Hell. It’s brought me wisdom and comfort and a sense of accomplishment. I couldn’t ask for more from a blog. Well, other than having Robert Downey Jr or the Winchester brothers rubbing my shoulders while I write it.

Speaking of shoulder rubbing, my very first blog post was about a massage and how I fretted over whether or not they would touch my boobs. I really planned on making it a regular thing.  As it turns out, it was a whole year before I got another one.

What better subject to write about on my blog’s birthday than to explore my original topic?

Randy got me a massage for my birthday and by that I mean that I bought a Groupon for a massage and let him know that he got it for me for my birthday.

Getting ready for the massage was a process. First, I had to de-yeti myself. To say I have been lackadaisical in my shaving habits is a bit too whimsical.

I’ve ignored it for months. I don’t care. Randy doesn’t care. Don’t fucking judge.

But no way was was Craig going to see that shit. Craig being the massage guy that I had never seen in my life.

I look forward to getting a massage..it’s all I want. Then when the day comes, I’m anxious and awkward and I don’t want to go. For instance, it is 12:43 on a Saturday just now. My massage is in 2 hours and 17 minutes away. I don’t want to go.

I’m too fat. My heels are gross. My stomach hurts. What if he has bad breath? What if he’s a pervert? What if I’m a pervert and I don’t know it yet?

I will do what I do when I get my hair cut. I’ll Xanax up. That is the only way I can get through the anticipation of other people touching me. The actual touching is usually pleasant or at least not horrifying. It’s the anticipation that is making the acid fairies in my stomach act up.

Fast foward

The massage is over. Craig was an interesting character.

When I entered the facility, I was in his office. It was overrun with books and charts and looked like my cubicle at work, except with fake spinal columns.

He was more of a sports therapy type of massage guy. He did a great job and I felt good afterward, but it wasn’t the experience I was looking for.

I wanted the soft lights and candles and aroma therapy and chime-y music playing in the background. This was more a locker room experience.

He did have music though. At one point, Fever was playing. That was weird.

Craig: You carry a lot of tension in your neck and shoulders. You must sit at a desk.

You give me fever…when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight.

Me: Yes. Yes I do.

Fever in the morning, fever all through the night. 

Craig: You are a side sleeper, too, aren’t you?

I guess it could have been worse. It could have been ‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails.

He also told me that I really needed to work the LSM muscle in my neck.

He said he wouldn’t work it because he could tell it would be very tender, but he showed me what to do.

He tilted his head and grabbed his own neck muscle and asked me to do the same.

I have a problem with directions. I am slightly dyslexic. I don’t know left from right and front and back give me a problem, too. This is why I’ve set the kitchen on fire before. Three times.

In my defense, the back burner could be considered the front burner. It’s a matter of perspective. Shut up. It is too a matter of perspective.

I kept grabbing the opposite side of my neck than he was grabbing. He finally gave me a kindly smile and said ‘Bless your heart’.

Hahahaha.

I have to say that I enjoyed last year’s massage a little more than this year’s.  I am glad to report that once again, I didn’t have to worry about a stranger touching my boobs. I really do prefer a boobless massage.

 

28 Thoughts.

  1. Happy blogiversary.

    “…and looked like my cubicle at work, except with fake spinal columns.”
    You have real spinal columns all over you cubicle, I’m guessing.

    I hope you have many more years of blogging ahead of you.

  2. There are so many hilarious things in this post that I totally relate to, I don’t even know where to start. I’ll just say Happy Blog Birthday!

  3. Haha! Happy Blogaversary! I just got my first American massage last weekend (I’ve had them overseas but the experience is veerrry different.

    I was way nervous too– felt like I had to start preparing for it like hours in advance, polishing, scrubbing, removing hair from various places… and then when I got there all I could think was “please don’t be some sort of 95 pound sorostitute who’s like “omg cellulite.” I was also very curious about the extent to which she’d be touching my ass. Luckily, it was fairly limited.

  4. Happy Blogaversary!! 🙂 Too funny. Loved your thoughts on the massage. It is always awkward. Stripping down naked so some other person whom you are not having sex with touches you. It feels good in some ways but in other ways it’s a bit of an odd experience. I get the whole “my thighs are too big, my feet are like hooves, please don’t fart” thing. And I hate talking through it because I feel like I am not even there for it but I still talk all the way through it because it feels really rude to me to just lay there and let someone else take care of me while I say nothing. I talk my way through sex too, so maybe it’s just my own weirdness. Have an awesome day!!

  5. Happy blog birthday, and thanks so much for all of the hilarious awesomeness herein. I cut my own toenails before I go get a pedicure, so I can relate to your pre-massage anxiety (A stranger will be touching me! And I don’t want to be disgusting!). I’m pretty sure the pre-event angst negates any relaxation I get from the massage. I’m probably better off just taking a nap.

    • Thank you so much!

      Yes..it’s like the short time in my life when I had someone come in to clean my house. I never worked harder at cleaning my own house.

      Ohhh..maybe if I just pretend like a housekeeper is coming in..maybe then I’ll get off my ass.

      • Goodness, you’re a woman after my own heart. I’m pathologically incompetent at cleaning my own house, so I should hire a house cleaner. Reason that I haven’t yet hired a house cleaner: I’ll have to clean my own house before he/she gets here. Oy.

  6. The key is to see the same massage therapist on a regular basis. I’ve seen Josh every 6 weeks for almost 6 years. At this point I not only tell him he’s being a masochistic prick when he really digs into my ribs, but he calls me a winy bitch. I don’t shave my legs just to see him anymore and when I do, he comments on it. Like he feels all flattered and shit. It’s a warped but fun relationship where we talk about movies and I tell him when he’s accidentally crushing my boob without feeling odd about it.

  7. Ha ha, great timing. I just recently had my very first massage ever and I was afraid of the very same thing. Was the massage therapist going to touch my boobs or my ass? Glad to see I wasn’t the only one with these worries.

  8. I spent the first four decades or so of my life avoiding massages — because I felt I was just too squishy. But then I discovered Groupon and I’m now a junkie. I’ve had really good massages and really bad ones (I post about the really bad ones). I also prefer more of a spa experience instead of sports therapy — low lights, pleasant smells, and relaxing music. And I have to have women masseuses — guys just freak me out for some reason. And don’t talk to me — I’m not there to chat — I’m there to relax.

    I just realized I may be high maintenance — and apparently I’m so uptight, it’s no wonder I need massages

    Congratulations on your one year blogaversary! Keep it up!

    • Thank you so much! And I should start getting these more often. I also prefer no talking. It’s distracting. I don’t think we’re high maintenance..not that bad anyway.

  9. Happy blogiversary, I am surprised to find that you’ve only been at this for a year. Some of my favorite political bloggers have been blogging for a decade, and are far less entertaining to read.
    The last time I worked in Emeryville, for a long time the closest bus stop was right across the street from the Holistic Institute, which is a massage school. One of the students, a red haired woman in her mid-twenties, used to bum cigarettes from me when we would both be waiting for the bus. After the third time, I just started offering her one if I had one, and she sort of sheepishly said “I never thought massaging people could cause anxiety, but it turns out that is does”. I also remember staring across the street at the front of that building a few different times after having loaded 3 trucks by myself and thinking “I wonder how much they charge?”

    • You should have gone for it.

      And thank you for the kind words. In the spirit of honesty, I did write another blog for 2 1/2 years before starting this one, so I’ve been at it a little longer. This one is my favorite, though

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