When the dog bites, when the bee stings, when I'm feeling sad...or, more to the point, when I have a birthday.
It's become a once-a-year thing to have my body kneaded by a stranger. There was a time when the idea did not appeal to me at all. But that was before I experienced the pure joy of fingers digging deep into my muscles to unleash the knots and soothe my stressed body.
Frankly, I did feel a little out of place when I walked in. I waited patiently while the lady-who-lunches in front of me described in detail the travails of her week. Which included a dog that got skunked and her sadness at him having to forego the pool she bought him because the vet advised her he would smell every time he got wet, at least for the next month or so.
When my turn came, the receptionist asked if this was my first visit to their new digs (it was), where the bathroom was and to help myself to treats. My bladder being my bladder, I decided a trip to the ladies' would be a good idea. By the time I got back, my masseuse was waiting. (No treats for me.)
The massage room (I will not call it a parlor, thank you) was dimly lit with New Age tinkle music playing softly in the background. Once I divested myself of most of my clothing and plopped my body down on the bed, the magic fingers lady knocked and appeared.
It was a full body, hour-long Swedish massage. The name always brings to my mind pictures from a James Bond movie. So not like that. No one walking on or karate chopping my back.
Just the fingers, digging, digging, digging.
She started with my scalp and worked her way down. I could feel the knots dissolving under her expert touch. I told her about messing up my knee a few weeks ago. She said it still felt warm and I should ice it and probably have the doctor look at it if things didn't improve in the next week.
Then, time to work on the flip side. I turned onto my stomach and put my kisser in the "face cradle." (I just love that name.) It's shaped like the letter "U" so you can rest your head comfortably and still breathe.
I will admit, I did squirm when she worked on the bottoms of my feet. But I noticed afterward that they didn't hurt like they had when I walked in.
Yes, I know it's an indulgence. And most folks would not include it on their list of must-haves. But I have added it to mine. At least once a year.
All I can say in my defense is, "Ahhhhhhhhh."
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