Or – The Fine Line between Pleasure and Pain at the local Massage Parlour.
For Ian because I wrote this post first… Sorry Farli, will get to the other one shortly…
You may or may not know that I get chiropractic. I’ve had a dodgy lower back since forever and a dodgy neck since I started being a Web Princess.
The chiropractor who treats me is a lovely man who makes my body sound like it’s one degree away from paraplegia, (or worse, quadraplegia), a lovely man who while he makes me contort engages me in conversations about religion. Hmm more specally we chat about the state of Daniel Carter but that’s another story.
I leave his clinic $55.00 poorer and with a renewed sense of well being.
Most of the time…
But not last time a couple of weeks ago. In fact I felt very much as if I had paid for a chat about footy and frankly, I can do that for free at the office. So I asked around my circle of friends and relations about alternate treatment options and one name keeps popping up.
“Aye, There’s the Rub”- where the whole of the Northern Beaches go when they need a kneading.
A massage… well, I’ve had one or two before and never felt the long term positive effects. At the hands of SpiroGuide I’ve nodded off under the weight of somnolent ambient ‘music’ and heady scents and been smothered in essential (is it? I’m not sure) oil but never really gone home feeling improved. A little relaxed? Sure…well, about as relaxed as this girl ever gets. But feeling better?
So, on the bases (pl of basis?) of some hefty recommendations I booked an appointment with Mme Galina*… I wasn’t entirely optimistic that I would feel the benefits immediately, how beneficial is it to visit a stranger, slip behind a curtain and remove all your clothes and throw yourself down on the bed.. (ok, so don’t answer that…). But this is of course what I did.
The massage itself really was not that eventful, I mean, really… what can happen when a complete stranger is rubbing their hands all over you, pressing places that are so tender you almost leap off the bed? (Ok, so don’t answer that either…) this leaping off the bed (yeah, the technical term is table isn’t it… but that wouldn’t sound nearly so saucy would it??) made it completely apparent that I have muscles that have been hurting for a long time that I had got very, very used to. It’s clear that I’m almost used to being in pain…
That can’t be too good.
Galina said to me when it was all over (can you believe it? I let her do this to me for over an hour…) you’re going to be sore tomorrow… Drink lots of water.
So, which part of this is somehow wrong? That you go for a massage to feel better and the therapist tells you you’re going to be worse off in the morning?
Yeah… like that’s her real name… *snort*