Once a year, my husband I take a weekend to ourselves. No kids. No work. Nothing but the two of us in a cabin, relaxing in a hot tub. It’s heaven on Earth.
This time, my husband decided we should have a couples massage. I was a little ambivalent about this. As a longtime lover of massages, I am picky about who rubs my body. I have also been spoiled by a magnificent masseuse, whom I also call a friend, who can work out a knot from across the room.
Seriously. She does this thing with my wrist that hurts like hell and then releases my tension. I would marry her if we weren’t committed to other people.
So massage day arrives, and I can’t help but compare her to my longtime love. I mean, regular massage therapist.
Massages are supposed to be relaxing. You lie in a darkened room, listen to Enya and get lulled to sleep by the smell of lavender. You should not lie in a sunlight living room with Zamfir and his pan flutes playing in the background. Zamfir, shut your flute hole.
I like chatting with M, my favorite rubber-downer. We talk about her family, my family, and when it’s time to relax, she knows when to take a moment of silence. This bag of personality said nothing. Oh, wait. I think she asked if there was anything she needed to work on. Then, it was nothing. I could hear crickets chirping.
It’s hard to relax when you feel like you should say something. Anything. Weather? Nope. It’s cold as balls. There’s nothing exciting there. Hobbies? Kids?
Working things out
When I finally decide to shut up and enjoy the massage, I can’t. She rubbed my neck and somehow she found every hair along my neckline and tugged on it. I know I am a hairy beast, but shouldn’t she know how to avoid my errant wisps?
And when I say I like a little pressure to work out the tension I am carrying in my shoulders, please do not press all of your weight on my body and grind your elbow into my spine.
Did I mention, I am a little on the fuzzy side? Well, somehow I didn’t think about shaving or doing my toes before the magical massage. So, as she starts in on my calves, all I can think is, “Oh, dear Lord, she probably thinks I am the missing link. Sasquatch’s cousin has come out of the woods for a weekend in the hot tub….. Is she going to massage my feet? I am so glad I showered…. When was the last time I had a pedicure? I can’t remember…. Yup. That’s my callous. I really need to sand that down. I might scratch The Hubs in the middle of the night….”
This goes on and on until she FINALLY moves along to another part of my body.
I did doze off, which was nice, but then I felt really self conscious about the drool that pooled around my mouth. I can only hope that she didn’t notice. Even if she did, I am OK with that, because the rest of my weekend was spend in a hot tub with my husband.
It’s love. True love.
I went a little GIF happy with this. They all came from giphy.com.