My Massage Therapist
You know when you put earbuds in your pocket and the cords get hopelessly knotted? That happens to my back because I “don’t stretch” and “constantly tense my back.” Anyways, this woman, who is a real hoot and holler, somehow finds every little knot in my back and gets rid of it for me. Anytime I get ready for a massage I get undressed in .00023 seconds and teleport under the sheet because I guess I think it would kill me to assertively say through the door, “one moment please.” She puts this infrared light on my back and when I peak to see the bright red light I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge in the gritty 1970s adaptation of A Christmas Carol when Scrooge gets sent to hell, minus all the ghoulish terror of course though it would be fun if the music changed to reflect the spooky vibe. She always tells me crazy stuff about my muscles and how she can totally tell how many knots I have and while I am deeply impressed by her skill, anybody could vaguely gesture at me and find a muscle that is tight. Bonus is that she touches both sides of my back before ending a massage so I don’t feel lopsided as I walk out to my car, which is the only walk in which I don’t hurt. A shame I’m moving because now my back hurts like the unmassaged masses.
