Masseuse Got Ya Girl Feelin’ Loose

I was cruisin’ Living Social deals the other day when I came upon a “60 minute theraputic auromatherapy massage” at quite a bargain. The last time I got a massage was in 2006 before my final round of ACTs, and my score went up four points overall. So, clearly, all massages are legitimate. Being super stressed once again, I jumped at the deal and got one for my mom for Mother’s Day as well.

When I arrived there was no one in the “waiting room”, which was actually just a couple sofas, a mini-fridge from a college dorm room, and hippie posters. Keep in mind this space is on the second floor of some sort of office building with narrow, quiet hallways outside of Pittsburgh. I was having serious doubts as I called out, “Umm, hello? Is there anyone here?”

What I can only describe as a stern blonde gymnast appeared in shiny polyester clothing, “Oh, hello. Did you fill out your intake forms?”

“No.”

 

 

She spun back down a hidden hallway behind a cloth armchair and returned with a clipboard. They requested a medical history. I found that a little intrusive so I gave them my email address and crossed out the next three pages.

 

 

She led me down the hallway into a small room with a massage table and paintings of oceans. I had a moment of apprehension but  it turns out that twenty lavender scented candles and an ocean soundtrack have pretty much the same effect on me as a night at the bar has on the Jersey Shore cast; and stripping down to my skivies with a stranger suddenly didn’t seem so preposterous!

She reviewed where I was ok being massaged from a checklist (hard and soft limits!) before we began. She started with my shoulders, and I gradually became a zen puddle person. She moved me around, threw my limbs in new directions. She poured oils and lotions all over me. I may or may not have moaned once or twice.

By the end I can honestly say I was a little bit in love with that woman. I was the epitome of relaxation. I felt limber, calm, flexible. I had visions of myself jumping over buildings in a single bound, doing cartwheels, or maybe even ballet! As I went to tip her I realized I only had seven dollars in my purse and considered offering her everything in my possession. Android phone? Coach wristlet? Burts Bees chapstick? I didn’t need any of it anymore! This is clearly the kind of feeling that lures people into cults, but thankfully, she declined my worldly possessions and I continued on to my gainful employment.

Maybe next time!

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