Monday, August 10, 2009

Frankie says Relax

Massage.
Doesn't the word just send blissful waves of relaxation washing over you? For me it's a love hate relationship. I am one of those touch-phobic souls. I have a high level of regard for my personal space and can freak a bit if someone invades it, yes, even when it's well meaning family. I spend hours arranging my desk at school so that only I can be behind it. The thought of a student hoovering right over my shoulders is akin to nails scratching down a chalkboard. And don't even get me started on the close proximity talkers! Can. not. handle. it.

I am fine if I initiate the contact. Side hugs? Only if I approach you first. But when it's not my doing, I feel like I'm completely suffocating. There have been plenty of nights that I have to extricate myself from the Mr.'s arm after he's gone to sleep. Otherwise I lay there awake, feeling trapped for hours. It's a full on panic at reunions and social events (church- I'm talking to you!), and I'm not afraid to say I have come across as socially awkward on a few of those occasions. It's not the germ issue. I'm no Howie Mandel or Monk. It's the touching part.

Knowing that, you may ask how I could possibly handle an hour long massage session without completely loosing my mind. And the answer would be that I have to fight the urge to twitch for the first 20 minutes or so before I relax and fall asleep. Only that didn't happen yesterday. I think my first "red alert" moment came when my massage therapist came in wearing a sweatband on his head. I can only handle light pressure, anything more and I completely freak- giggling, jumping, wiggling, gnashing of teeth- the works. So working up a sweat during my session is probably not going to happen. This guy was serious about some massage. About 10 minutes in I was starting to find my "happy place" when I was jarred out of my near bliss-fullness by. a. Drill.

Seems the yogurt place next door is doing a little remodeling. And they are unaware that a drill and a tile cutter can drown out the relaxing sounds of waterfalls and birds in the woods. I was pretty much a goner from that point on, as construction interrupted at least 3 more times during the session. And it's hard to get the full benefit of a massage when you're tense and panicky. And I couldn't just sit up and walk out. OK, maybe I could, but there would have been some kind of indecent exposure laws violated. So I laid on the table and counted in my head and pretended like I was a normal person getting a normal massage and not secretly terrified of him touching my feet. Somewhere around 3,037 it was over.

Relaxing is hard work.

6 comments:

Monica the Bride said...

This was hilarious! I work at a place where everyone hugs each other, except I never get hugged. That always bothers me, yet I am also kind of like you, so maybe it's for the best.

As for the construction next door- not cool! That's a major damper on a massage.

Housewife Savant said...

I've never said "Sorry about your miserable massage" before.

Columbia Lily said...

see, this is why we get along so well...touching is not so great.

Ryan Ashley Scott said...

Haha! Oh my, that relaxing massage sounds more like a tornado drill.

Augie said...

Hey Lady!! I had the same massage therapist last year. There's only but a handful of massage therapist that wear sweatbands I think. His squeaky, squirt bottle of lotion drove me crazy!

Blasé said...

I recently did a massage post on my Blog. Massage along with 'hair pulling' is the best!!!