We as women pay people to do odd things. We pay someone to clean our feet and wax the hair out of our “hoo-hass”. It’s fucking bizarre, but yet so normal.
So when I went for a massage last week, I realized how stressful pampering yourself can really be.
Let me elaborate.
Last week, I arrive at the spa, late and am rushed into the “Relaxation Zone”. I look up to find a strapping young male; tall and tan with a defined jaw line. If you took off his dread locks, he would look like a young version of Fabio.
“Welcome to Renewed Spa, My name is _____ (I ignored his real name and put in my own, “Young Fabio”). I will be your massues for the evening. Please get comfortable and I will be back in a few minutes. “
“ Comfortable” -What the heck does that mean? I assume it means to get undressed but undress what? My bra? My pants? Bra, but no pants? Underwear and no shirt? The combinations are endless but all he said was, “Get comfortable”.
A girl needs a little direction, at least at the Gynecologist the nurse says straight out,
“Everything off except your bra. Gown open in the front. Feet in stirrups and the doctor will be in shortly.”
Ok, now were talking. There is no room for any surprises. When the doctor walks in, I know and she knows that my Pikachu is up and visible on the table for a proper examination.
At this point my mind runs wild…what if I get completely undressed and young Fabio is surprised? What if I leave my bra on and he awkwardly tells me to take it off…nevertheless I had to ask.
“So, I can’t remember how this works…do I get undressed totally or just…like a little?”
“Ummm…” Young Fabio’s face turns red…”Everything except your underwear”
He quickly leaves the room and I rush like a maniac to strip down; god forbid Young Fabio walked in on me as I was undressing. As soon as I am down to my underwear, I jump on to the massage table and start to think…if Boy Ryan and I don’t work out, my next boyfriend will be a massage therapist. Yes, great idea, I would go on Match.com.
My posting would read something like,
Tall, Knotted blonde looking for a man good with his hands. MUST have massage certification with specialized focuses on the neck and lower back. Must bring prior girlfriend references upon first date.
I get interrupted…Knock, Knock. Young Fabio walks back into the room.
“Ok Ryan, just relax and enjoy”. He fumbles with his Ipod and a song that could be found on the “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon” soundtrack starts to play. “How does that feel?”
“O, great” I feel the need to make a joke, “I am drooling on the floor, it’s a great massage”
“ O…uh…no problem, I’ll get the cleaning lady to wipe it up”
No, I was totally joking Fabio. Idiot.
As the massage continues, I begin to realize that my body is relaxing on its own. Now when the body relaxes, certain muscles, begin to relax too. When I say certain muscles I mean the sphincter.
Yes, 20 minutes into the massage, the farting began….
I clenched as hard as possible to keep from releasing any sound. Holding my breath and clenching my toes, Young Fabio starts to feel the tension rising in my body…
“Ryan, just take a deep breath in and relax, you keep getting all tight!”
O, geez that’s because I am farting! I can’t let you hear me fart, girls don’t fart. I can’t be that girl that spoils it for the rest of the female race. They would be talking about me for centuries, “That Girl Ryan, the girl who let the secret out-literally-that girls DO indeed fart”
As the gas begins to subside, I am relieved for a moment to know that there is a blanket blocking Fabio from finding out what is really causing my “Tension”. But just when I thought I was safe from being found out, Fabio lifts the blanket to move my arm and I can feel him back away and let out a little cough.
Great, I thought to myself, I just dutched oven-ed my massuse.
10 minutes later…
Young Fabio starts to work lower on my back and I can feel the tip of my underwear sticking out. I suddenly remember that I wore my BTD panties- aka Bottom of the Drawer panties.
(Don’t judge, all of you have BTD panties)
It’s that underwear that your grandma gave you because she thought a thong was for cleaning in between your cheeks. Or those panties that you wear on a first date because your will power to stay at 1st base is more powerful than letting the guy see what kind of underwear you have on.
Don’t Lie, you know you got em.
Let me paint a picture of my BTD panties; Red and covered with happy, fat penguins dressed in Christmas outfits. They sound cute until you see that they don’t quite fit the full top of my ass. My crack is slightly exposed as if it were saying to the audience behind me, “Hey there, nice day out today, eh?”
15 minutes later…
As Fabio moves his way down from my back to my calves, I start to feel my face get flushed with embarrassment. Shit, I didn’t shave my legs
Listen, in my life, I suspend shaving my legs from November-March. I am a married gal and my husband doesn’t seem to notice when my legs feel like a Sasquatch’s back.
Sasquatch Sighting?
Nope, just Ryan in the month of November.
Maybe, I can make a joke to ease the hairy leg situation…
Yea, I know my legs feel like an ape, but it is November. So instead of growing out my mustchase this year to show my support for Movember; I decided to grow out the hair on my legs.
Or
Hey, I’m French.
But instead, I keep quiet and let my mind continue to fret about the hair on my legs. I just thank god he isn’t massaging my armpits…there would be no reasonable explanation for that forest.
After 50 minutes, my massage is over. I breathe a sigh of relief as Young Fabio exits the room. It suddenly hits me why I don’t get massages; they are just way too much work.
I run to exit the spa and drop off a large tip for Young Fabio; there just isn’t an appropriate monetary compensation for what this poor boy just went through.
UH…I got first world problems…#MassageProblems.
That Girl Ryan 