Just biked home from my first massage. A legit massage that doesn't end in love-making or falling asleep in arms. Quite the build-up for such a service. First things first, I'm the kind of person who arrives early to everything. 12:30 for a 1:00 appointment. No problem they're at lunch and don't get back until 1:00. Okay, 1:15 for the receptionist who is "so sorry"
Dian Flugnagelbachen comes strolling around the corner. Pleasantries. Informs me that I'm late... pshhh corrected that right up. Realized she was rude in saying that in the first place. Routine medical information. I show her my knee and how it's been injured for years. Long, gray hair and a skirt to match. I'm carried away with the smell of incense and can hear the ocean in the distance drawing near. I undress to my "panties" in record time. Lay face down on the pillow and under some sheets. I'm comfortable. She starts on my back, lotion. Whatever you know it's a massage. Beats me with some balls on sticks for a while. Tickles my face. My feet get really cold. She asks me not to move. Is one of my legs longer than the other? Does one feel heavier? I say I don't think so. She tells me I have a lot of pent up stress. That it's hard for me to let go. Why can't I just let me neck relax? It's unbearable to not be able to let my shoulder hit the table. I think I'm just made that way but know it's all in the mind. So, I think about how I can't relax at a place soley meant for relaxation. How doomed can a person be?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment