First and foremost, the massage was at a place called Massage Envy. I thought, what's up with that name? The business name alone almost says "Do you ENVY ME because I'm going to get a massage, you miserable little bastard?" Seriously, there's some major snobbish tones just in that name. It should be more humble. Like Massage Humility. Or for me, maybe Massage Humiliation. And before anyone asks me, I'll just let you know right off. Yes, I shave my back before I go into a place like this.
I'm always a little leery when they come get you out of the waiting room and walk you down this hallway, asking you how you're day is going, talking all softly. I'm like "Is this person going to murder me?" Not that it's likely to happen, it's just a weird thought that goes through my head. They ask you, "What exactly are you looking for today?" which always freaks me out. I'm looking for a massage. Ok? And I want you to think I'm the most normal person you've ever met here, because it just looks like the kind of place a fucking maniac would be hanging around in. The rooms are all soft lights and aromatherapy and incensey and such. It kinda walks the line of out-of-the-ordinary for me. I don't keep my house this dark, I don't have massage tables in my living room instead of furniture, although it would be pretty awesome to get people's reaction to seeing something like that. There's a headrest with a hole for your face so when you're lying down, you can put your face in it and breathe. Imagine if you had people over to your house and when they got there, you had a room full of people laying on massage tables face down. It would be like some sort of horror film. But then you can sit up and say "So nice to see you, Regina. We're glad you're here. You're going to be massaging us all today!!!"
So lying on this table, there's all types of earthy toned music playing, and soundscapes. I wanted to ask the lady if people could bring in their own music. Like, what if I put on some Slayer? Would the masseuse just start beating the shit out of me? This last go round, I'm lying there and this chick is just wailing on my back, like it's a totally normal thing to be doing to someone. Most of the massage was fine, but at one point, she was relentlessly working on the same exact spot on my back, like she was trying to tear muscles off of me like a zombie movie. I just sat there with my face in the pillow, wincing and trying not to start audibly crying. Also, as they're just going through the massage motions, you never know what's next. Like, one minute they could be working on your shoulders, and what if the next, they're stabbing you with a fork. Or caning you? Or taking your wallet? Or hypnotizing you into thinking your somebody else?
Anyway, go get a massage. You'll be glad you did. Just make sure you stay observant with how parallel universe shit can get in there.
Meh. Maybe I'm just a dumbass.
