While on a recent trip to the land south of the border I decided to treat myself to a relaxing deep tissue massage, because ya know what, I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and doggone it, people like me. ...But Ahhh, just the thought of typing it makes me uneasy. And here's why.
First off, my appointment was at noon and it wasn't until 11:55am that I ceased shoving my second plate of chili cheese nachos down my pie hole. I then rolled up to my appointment, at 12:00pm (prompt in LA time) but more than fashionably late in Mexico time. Still the five foot polish build senorita accepted me and lead to me to relaxing destination.
And though, I was trying to get into the relaxing 'Zen' mode I was also trying to 'Secret' my stomach into politely digestion that pile of meat, beans, cheese, chips and jalapenos asap. (note to self, stick to one plate or none) So already, two strikes on my count.
Now any massage I've had, they ask you to disrobe, but leave on the bottom half of your 'delicates' or in a previous friends experience at this spa, they handed her a pair of make-shift undies to sport. Muchacha however, was very adamant about me disrobing it all. So against my will, I did and already slightly uncomfortable slid under the pressed white sheet.
Snuggling in the upside down head rest I was finally starting to digest and fall into a deep relaxing...until that is, I started to become overly aware of the absurd awkward sounds of the room, the room of which I could only see a 2x2 cube of the floor of. The shuffling footsteps wandering around the room; the opening and closing of random drawers, cabinets, bottles; what I assumed to be a plastic bag being opened and closed; the gentle unfold of a towel, and finally the squirting fart of a creamy liquid being poured...somewhere...turns out that somewhere was muchachas hand, the hand that she then placed directly below my nostril while using the other to press the back of my head further into the headrest. Now, this is supposed to be a relaxation technique, however when laying naked in a spa in a foreign country and obnoxious sounds that you're blind to have your senses on edge and a small woman with the strength of ten tigers forces you to breathe in a magic potion, you begin to tense up...well at least I did.
Moving on. Let the rub down begin. She's getting in my back like a fat kid breaking into a candy jar, just as I'm getting into my deep relaxation like a fat kid falling off the high dive into the deep end. It was awesome. The magic potion was kicking in and I was in it! That was until I hear and feel the soft warm creepy whisper in my ear of "Miz Peeterz, is the pressure okay, Miz Peeterz does that feel ok, Miz Peeterz are you ok?" Well I was ok until you got all wet willy up in my ear and started whispering, it's just you and I in hear muchacha, let your vocal chords run free. Back to being tense.
Finally the whispers cease and I'm diving back in. I've lost all awareness of the chili cheese nachos stirring in my stomach, the random cream squirting sounds and my completely naked body. I'm in it to win it. Then, she starts to go low, then lower, then the lowest. Yup, muchacha went for the tight end tackle. And it's at this point in the massage that I become completely 110% uneasy. I mean, I know I have some muscles down there (tight ones may I add) and I know it's her job to 'massage' them, but what I don't know, its how low is she really supposed to go? Like, is this ok? Is this MAYBE just a touch too far?
I mean, I want to stop her and ask but then I'll feel like an ass (pun intended) for not knowing the edicate of 'massage' yet still, I'm not so sure senorita is suppose to be digging that deep and rough into my seat cushion, so now this is the battling going on in my mind, not that of fuzzy slippers and daffodils. Relaxing??? I think not.
The moral of my story. Like karaoke, I feel like there should be clear defined rules in a massage pallor..JUST so we all are on the same page and don't end up hearing the ballad you played when you broke up with your high school sweetheart or get stuck in our heads wondering if that really was herb infused oil shoved up your nose and whether or not, you did in fact just receive a Mexican 'final feliz'.
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