>How the Other Half Lives
>”Heh-low. I am Eva. Coom follow me.”
Nervously, I set aside the People Magazine I’d found on the coffee table and followed Eva down a dimly lit hall.
“Go in there,” she instructed, pointing to a small room. “Get undress and lie face up on that bed. I be back in a few minute.”
She closed the door and I got undressed, more like a prisoner preparing for an executioner than a spa guest about to undergo a luxurious full body massage. I put all my clothing in a neat pile in the corner, then hopped onto the bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. I’ve had quite a few massages in my lifetime, but the first time with someone new is always a little uncomfortable.
A few minutes passed and I realized I was still wearing my wedding rings. Damn! I couldn’t leave my rings on! I’d have to put them in my jeans pocket. Stark naked, I leaped out of the bed and hunched over my clothes, desperately trying to stuff my rings into a pocket, certain Eva would pick that exact moment to fling open the door and reveal my nude, crouched body to the gaggle of rich bitches sure to be passing by at that very moment.
But I was lucky. I managed to get back in the bed and pull up the covers before Eva returned.
When she came in, I realized I didn’t know proper eye protocol. Should I stare at the ceiling? Pretend like I’m asleep? Or dead? Keep one eye closed and one opened, so that she’d know I was conscious, yet not really paying attention? My eyes fluttered confusedly for a few seconds until I decided to just close them.
“I understand you having some neck and shoulder trouble?” Eva said.
“Yeah, on my right side, where I carry my toddler, my muscles have all knotted up. It’s been bothering me.”
“I work on it. But I not go too deep, because that inflame the area further,” Eva said.
Translation: I’m not up for spending extra time and effort working out those knots, so you’ll get the standard massage and leave with the same damn muscle kinks you came in with.
“Uh. Okay,” I said, reluctant to get into a massage dispute while naked. Because there would necessarily be standing and finger pointing involved, and that would just be weird.
Eva got to work. I had worn eye makeup to my massage and she seemed to take great pleasure in smearing it all over my face with the cucumber-scented lotion she had squirted into her fingers.
Fucking A! I thought. She’s totally smearing my eyeliner on purpose!
Once she was done with my face, she put a compress over my eyes. From then on, my imagination went wild.
I heard what sounded like a cork popping- Was Eva drinking on the job?! That couldn’t be good for my vertebrae.
I felt her elbows grinding into my shoulder blades. What was she doing with her hands? Reading a Jackie Collins paperback? Investigating the contents of my wallet?
Once I turned over on my stomach, Eva spent a good deal of time kneading my butt. Buttcheeks are an area studiously avoided by most massage therapists. Was Eva a lesbo? Was she taking pictures of my ass on her cameraphone? Dammit! I couldn’t see a thing!
This went on for more than an hour. By the time the deep relaxation session was complete, I was a bundle of nerves, praying for the moment when she’d stop pummeling me and leave me in peace.
“Drink lot a water today,” she said curtly before heading out the door.
I cautiously sat up. My back hurt like hell. My butt burned like I’d just appeared as an extra in Buns of Steel. I was sure I was sporting a half dozen bruises on my neck and shoulders. As I stepped into my jeans, I had a vision of what dressing would be like 50 years from now. I hobbled down the hall to settle the bill.
“You feel better?” Eva asked me from behind the counter.
“Oh yeah,” I rasped. “I feel great. Thank you.”
As I turned and made eye contact with the Lilly Pulitzer-clad blonde seated in the waiting area, I smiled serenely, fully aware that my newly oily hair and makeup-smeared face made me resemble a recently laid-off clown after a Boone’s Farm-fueled night spent under the circus tent bleachers.
Still, I passed off her grimace to a poorly-concealed case of envy. Surely she realized I had just experienced the ultimate in luxurious relaxation. Who wouldn’t want to be me?
>Thank God I’m not the only one! I tell ya, it’s rare when I get a massage that leaves me feeling better than when I came in. I don’t know why I keep spending money on them. I got a hot stone massage a month ago and the bitch burnt the SHIT out of the bottom of my feet. I guess so that if I disputed her expertise and refused to pay the bill, they could catch up with me when I hobbled out of the spa.
>They really should brief you on salon etiquette. I never know if eyes should be shut or not, or whether talking is allowed. And are little blissful mmm noises permitted?
>Ahhh, you’re one of THOSE people. I can’t say I’ve ever had problems – but I’ve heard lots of folks with them. I tend to fall asleep and wake myself up drooling. Oops.
>LOL! She massaged your butt?? Oh, man… I don’t know, maybe that’s the norm where she comes from — sure ain’t here!I’ve only been to a couple of masseuses, including one that I went to for many years. She was wonderful… & then she had the nerve to move to NC. DAMN HER!You’ve reminded me that I have a gift certificate to use, for a new person. How will I get this out of my head when I go there!?
>My wife LOVES to get a massage – must be a woman thing. I think most men are uncomfortable with the idea although I don’t know why for sure. Maybe it’s nekkid thing…
>2 words – Thai MassageYou get to keep your clothes on… and it feels damn good!
>When my son’s dad and I were still living together, I got a massage from a mutual friend who worked out of her home. It was awesome, although a tad strange at first to be massaged by someone we saw at parties. Oh, and I was so oily afterward, but I wanted to go out to breakfast, so I just went out all greasy. Ew. ;^)
>I’ve been out of commission for awhile and just read your last few posts. All brilliant. I can’t WAIT to hear about the revenge of the Sharpie!
>There is NO EXC– USE for a bad massage. None. I’m so sorry this happened to you. I wish I could send you my wonderful massage therapist in a box with a bow…well I suppose that would be weird…
>Never fear everyone, I’ve got an AMAZING massage therapist here at home. This massage took place in Atlanta over the weekend, while I was visiting my parents. My massage therapist here was the first person who told me it’s never supposed to hurt during a massage. I was stunned. :DAnd I’ve been wanting to try Thai massage, Kristin. My friend goes and she LOVES it!
>I once had a massage therapist scratch the crap out of me with a jagged fingernail. At least he didn’t go for my butt?
>Are you sure she wasn’t a man? The butt thing is a bit curious.
>Can I see pictures of the buns? Or didn’t you get copies?I trust you are feeling 58% better. Maybe 60.
>I’m a runner, and I have to say that the butt massage is the best part of the massage for me. I have been to several massage therapists, and some do it, some don’t. I have found that the therapists who have been working for a long time tend to be more comfortable about butts.Delurking to talk about my butt!
>That is the LAST time I read your posts at work. I am sitting here trying not to bust up laughing at every other line. I have never actually gotten a massage. I’m probably the last woman alive who’s never had one. Now I’ll know to be choosy when it comes to a masseuse (sp? Massuse? Massoose?).
>Funny, just this morning I was home when Ellen was on, and she was talking about the discomfort involved in getting a “relaxing” massage too. Last time I had one, it was the hot stone type, which was lovely, but not as involved in terms of working on some knotted spots as I might have liked. But I knew the lady already, so it was at least comfortable that way, since she was already in charge of waxing my business.
>Goodness… did you even pay for this “therapy”? I think it’s about time to scratch that particular spa salon off your “places to relax” list! I haven’t had a body massage for a few months now (they don’t let pregnant people get body massages here), but I did have a foot spa. It was wonderful and their chairs were really cozy. It was double what I used to pay in my previous foot and nail spa, but right now, i was not in the mood for bad service which would eventually have led to some nasty finger-pointing as well 😛
>I’ve only had two massages that I really enjoyed. The rest made me feel worse than I did when I went in. I never wear makeup for fear that it’ll turn into finger-paints. But I do love it when my butt gets massaged. Lots of tension in my ass for some reason.
>Massaging the butt to take care of shoulder problems.Um, yeah. that makes a whole lotta sense to me.
>I love a deep massage and only the best massages leave you feeling sore. It’s supposed to so that when you recover you actually feel better? You could not pay my husband to let someone touch him. No way. He is such a sissy about massages. I think they train chiropractors for the same jobs.
>Oh crap.So. Not. What. I. Needed. To. Read.but yet… it helps.You see: I have always begged my husband to give me massages. We’ve been married almost 18 years now and he HATES it. He says, “It makes my fingers tired.”So for my birthday this year he got me an hour long massage…. I’ve never had one. I do not WANT one. I’m soooo not into being naked in front of ANYONE. If you could give birth with your underwear ON, I would have. I don’t want the massage… and I’m not one to be ‘relaxed’ at ALL by strangers touching my body. At the chiropractor they learned that the ‘ultrasonic massage’ they give after treatment actually almost electrocutes me… they say I’m ‘extrememly sensative’ to the electrical impulses. We don’t do them. At All.And… he works on me with my bra ON since he knows I don’t want it ‘off’. :)…. so I’m trying to work up the courage to use this damn massage gift certificate but it makes me ill just to think about it.Thanks for the vote of confidence there with your post, missy! LOL.
>It’s NOT supposed to hurt? Damn, I want my money back. My ex sent me for a message a few years ago. My first and last. Not only did it hurt like hell, but I broke out in hives from the scented oil that he ground into my back. And of course, I didn’t say anything because I thought I was just being a wimp. Thanks for the laugh!
>Ha! Sorry, Merritt. Just be sure and tell the massage therapist that you want a very light massage and you should be fine.I totally disagree that only the best massages hurt- simply because I’ve been hurting for years, and now go to a woman who doesn’t hurt at all, AND actually gets all my knots worked out… something the others could never do. She says if its hurting, you’re tensing up in response, which negates the work that’s being done. That makes sense to me.
>I’ve only had one professional massage. I was about 20, and I was terrified that the burly guy who came in to do me (ha! do me!) was going to sell me in the sex trade. Dude, he was weird. I can’t relax either – you’re not alone.
>My best friend is a massage therapist, so I have no reason to be all tweeked out about getting a massage from her…thank god.I got a massage in India. Some special Indian massage. Where I had to get fully naked. Not.comfortable.Maybe it’s a foreign thing? I mean, she worked on my butt for a while, too. However, it was dark(ish) in the room, w/ soothing music, and it smelled like sandlewood and lavendar, so I totally fell asleep. I really hope she didn’t take a cell phone in, and snap pictures of the white whale in her massage room.(Oh, and she slathered this oil stuff all over me…including in my hair. I felt like I got deep fried in a vat of vegetable oil, by the time she was through.)
>See, I’ve only had 2 or 3 massages in my life by a trained massage person. And I knew both the massage therapists before hand so I was relaxed. And it was awesome. I don’t think i would have the nerve to go to a complete stranger. I would never be able to relax. Especially if it was a man. EWWWWW.My husband gives me massages all the time, complete with lotion and the whole bit. Only I usually don’t just get the massage…wink wink…..