Monthly Massage Musings

For Mother’s Day this year, hubs presented me with the gift of professional massages. Each month, I am required to go get relaxed for an hour and a half. At least relaxation is the intention. But hubs didn’t count on Ms. Kathy.

Ms. Kathy is my massage lady. Or man. I’m assuming lady cuz of the name. Kathy may be white, black, Asian or perhaps a gorilla. I’m not sure since it’s always dark in the room. While I am not certain of her gender, race or species, I am only certain that she has tiny feet, covered with ninja style slippers that are sufficient equipment to scale the walls to jump on my back. Kathy is also a midget. She is approximently 4’ 6” tall but don’t let her size fool you – just reverse those numbers and that’s about right. She was also apparently a sumo wrestler in her off-duty time as a midget ninja.

I’m not sure what Kathy’s native language is, or if that language has ever been documented. I tried explaining at my first visit that I liked to start my massages with a gentle rub of the face and head. She grunted her assent, then licked my face and started aggressively kneading my feet. (Okay, I just made the part up about licking my face. That tactic is known in writer’s circles as “embellishment” or “lying” if you’re a politician. But I digress…) At first I thought that she just didn’t speak English very well, so I pointed a lot at areas that needed a rubbin’. That didn’t help much, so I started yelling my requests in case Kathy turned out to be deaf or blind or something. None of that works, so I have just resigned myself to Kathy doing whatever she wants.
Kathy also only has two amounts of pressure she uses with her tiny rock-like fists. The first type of pressure is what I like to call “fucking hard”. The second, harder pressure is what I call “prison yard beat down”. I usually get most of the first hour and fifteen minutes in prison yard mode. Wherever Kathy is from, they don’t seem to believe in any of that caressing crap. I guess relaxing is a relative term in her world. Apparently her culture thinks that half-nelson’s and making people into quadriplegics is FUN.
Today I visited Kathy. She seemed in a bad mood, which made me pee a little in my pants at the prospect of her taking out her mood on my poor body. I once again went through the futile attempt to make my wishes known regarding what I have always considered my body up until meeting Kathy. I pointed to my ass hoping for a face massage. I don’t remember anything after that. I woke up an hour and a half later, my body dumped in three separate black plastic garbage bags in the parking lot. As I tried to pull my shit together, I remembered that I hadn’t left a tip. I stumbled back in and sure as hell left one. I don’t want my next visit for relaxation to end up any worse.

No, really I’m fine. I just had a massage.

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