Massage – Is Anything as Weird?
On Thursday after years of refusing to entertain the idea I succumb to pressure and had a massage.
In fact Liz booked it so I really had little choice, and for those who say “yes you did” I say “you obviously haven’t been married for over 30 years”
Sometimes you just have to accept the inevitable.
Before I go on I should perhaps explain two things,
The first is that Liz is convinced that a massage does you good, releases tension and apparently unravels knots in the muscles,
The second is that the thought of someone ‘poring’ me and especially a stranger is something that leaves me cold.
Anyway to the massage.
I duly reported as ordered at 8 am where I was met by a very attractive slim young woman from as it turned out Japan who promptly asked me to fill in a medical questionnaire.
The questionnaire itself asked as they do numerous questions but in effect it amounted to “are you expecting to die in the next two hours or so”
What I was booked in for was then explained to me,
Or at least I thought it was!
Apparently I was to have‘seaweed’ something or other massage.
Into a small room and please strip down to you pants and lie face upwards on a table that was covered with what can only be described as a huge sheet of silver baking foil.
Now it may seem strange but why is it that people are only too willing to strip to a pair of swimming shorts in public but feel it isn’t quite right to be caught in your boxer shorts and especially by a stranger.
Anyway needless to say I complied, lay back, was covered with a bath towel and tried to relax which was aided by the masseur putting a very soothing cooling pad over my eyes.
It was at this stage that my imagination started to go into overdrive while I lay there
listening to the sound of something being mixed which sounded very much like something that was going to be very squelchy and unpleasant.
Being laid on baking foil, almost naked and blindfolded doesn’t seem to me to be a rational thing to do with a stranger mixing up a concoction containing goodness knows what.
What happened next seemed even weirder when she started to smear the substance over me starting with my legs and then carefully as she went wrapping me until from my neck to my toes I was effectively in a cocoon of tin foil and then covered with towels.
All of the time of course I was blindfolded so had no idea what was really happening and for someone who relies on being able to see it is a strange feeling.
What was even stranger was the amount of heat that was suddenly generated.
By this time I’m thinking about whether there had been some kind of mix up and more importantly is this what now passes as a massage.
My expectations of course being that I was in for a pummeling from a former USSR shot putter not being trussed up like a Christmas Turkey prior to being cooked at Gas Mark 6.
Then it started, first of all a ‘head massage’, or at least I think that’s what it’s called, pressure being applied at certain points and all the time I’m thinking how do you relax.
Which reminds me do they always play background music that sounds like a combination of what sounds like oriental music, the sea and whales?
After the head she turned her attention to my feet which were massaged with some kind of oil.
It could have been number eighteen heavy gear box oil for all I knew but I have to admit it was pleasant and that when she applied gentle pressure to parts of my feet and ankles, and that was what it was with no warning of what was to come later, it gave me an insight, all be it brief into reflexology.
Anyway moving on,
The blindfold eye patch was removed along with the towels and I got my first glimpse of what I looked like in my tin foil suit.
It and I looked ridiculous, even worse I couldn’t move.
If that wasn’t bad enough when she helped me sit up and started to remove the wrapping from hell I saw that I was covered in some kind of green algae substance which varied in texture from being mud and puke green seaweed.
Apparently it detoxifies the body and relaxes the muscles according to the experts, namely the masseur and Liz.
So that was that, or so I thought.
“Please take a shower, wash off the gunk and then put theses on a lie face down on the bed”!!
What she handed me was a pair of paper pants.
Now I know I’m getting on but I can still wear my own underwear for crying out loud and anyway they looked like paper speedos and my views about men wearing speedos after a certain age is well-known.
Besides which I’ve been here an hour already isn’t that enough for one lifetime never mind one day?
Once again I stood up for myself
and did exactly as I was told.
Paper pants on, face down on the bed with my nose sticking through that bloody stupid hole they design into it and covered again with warm towels.
“Relax” says she,
“Bugger off” thinks I.
If you have read this far you will remember I said earlier that when my feet were being massage it was without warning of what was to come.
You may also recall that I referred to the masseur as being slim.
Well her size revealed a hidden talent.
She had fingers that would have done credit to the strongest of engineering gripping tongs, and worse still knew how to use them.
Let’s just say that after a gentle start she started to probe and found places and muscles that even Liz who I’ve known for almost 34 years has never been anywhere near.
“Is the pressure alright, no pain” she kept asking presuming that my silence meant everything was fine and dandy I suppose when really I was entering into shock and couldn’t speak.
Plus my face was stuck in what appeared to be an ever dismissing size hole.
“Please turn over a lie face up” eventually came and relief for a moment before she started again.
It all of course after 2 hours came to an end with the following comments from the masseur
“David, you have a lot of scars on your body and in your body (which apparently is scar tissue)”
Followed by the clincher,
“It is a well-used body”!!
OK I’m falling apart she didn’t have to bloody well remind me.
The other advice was to “drink lots of water and rest today” which would have been good advice if all I wanted was two paracetamol and a very large ocean-going gin and tonic to get over the shock.
No one will convince me that paying to be covered in seaweed mud, wrapped in tin foil, microwaved and then pummelled by a stranger isn’t weird.
Of course it is.
So will I be having a massage in the future?
To bloody true it makes you feel great afterwards weird or not.
You may be thinking where was Liz during all of this.
In the next room being ‘treated’, yes they call it ‘a treatment’.
Not a bit of it, she’d buggered off to the bar to relax!!!