Self Indulgence

I haven't been feeling well lately, and I took some aggressive actions to correct that.

First I got a massage.

Then, I got a second massage

Then I went to get some physical therapy.

My goal is to be running again regularly.

Massages are interesting business.  Everyone agrees that they are benificial especially if you feel lousy, as I do. But if you tell someone you went to get a massage, they judge you.

Like this:

"What did you do on your day off?"

"I got a massage"

"Whore."

Well, that's not quite right--it's usually "WELLLLLL Isnt' that nice!" and it's peppered with sarcasam, and envy, jealousy and suspicion. 

I admit, it does seem to be the ultimate in self indulgence.

But as I lay there naked, listening to calming music, smelling the aroma therapy, and wondering if K-mart sells a heated bed like this one, I do feel rather self indulgent--after all it's wednesday afternoon  and most people are working. but  This --this is my Saturday! I remind myself.  And I think of all the things that other people do which I would consider self indulgent and never do--like....pay for monster truck show tickets...bungee jumping......coloring my hair every week......acryllic nails...cigarettes...eating pork rinds...buying several sweatshirts with the same logo on it in different colors...tattoos...

See?  Expensive stuff, that I'm  not doing--yet I don't begrudge the world thier pleasures do I?  No, I would never do such a thing.

Last weeks massage at the massage salon with Abby, was the start of what I called "therapy" for my aches and pains.

I was hoping it would work--but it didn't last.  So, I stepped up the therapy--and called Jack for a Shiatsu session.

NOw, Shiatsu isn't for pleasure, my God no.  It's for correcting, and opeing up what's shut down.

but, it works.  It's not easy, it's not indulgent, I call it...massage with intention.

There's no heated table with Jack--you lay on the floor-on the blankets that look like Navaho Indians left them behind.  Then Jack futts-es around with the pillows until he's comfortable that you are comfortable.

There's music of course-with Abby there's was Dave Matthews --which I felt was modern, and progressive of her.

Jack has the traditional "whale songs" and sitar recordings.  Which, I like actually.  Well, I wouldn't use it in the car, or pick it for a wedding,but here on the blankets on a wednesday while the world is at work--it's good stuff.

I have all the faith in the world that Jack will clear my lines of tension.

He starts me face down, (and I have all my clothes on by the way--that's important--the first time we did this I wore a dress and heels because I had a lunch date later--I had no idea what Shiatsu entailed--I expected to be naked and under the heated blankets --he put me in his boyfriend's sweat pants and t-shirt and well, I learned a lesson that day didn't I)

He kneels next to me and does nothing for about 30 seconds--it's not really nothing, but he's channeling energy--claps his hands and rubs them together like Mr. Miagi then puts them on my back--and pushes.  He does this for like half an hour.

push and roll my muscles, push and shake my muscles---as if I am a baby with a very low APGAR score--and he's a Midwife that doens't want to alarm anyone just yet--or, if that's too distasteful of an image--perhaps he pushed and rolled me as if he is a small boy trying to wake his drunk mother on a wednesday ofternoon because the cops are at the door....how was that?  better?

-occasionally he would press a finger (at least I think it was a finger) into my back. and tap, tap tap along the imaginary lines of my body that he has troubled himself to memorize. 

I can't think of a better way to spend the day, can you?

Jack, is feeling out my trouble--and he has pleanty to occupy him, he does a lot to my legs--and my feet, (he's also a reflexologist)  after a bit he stands up and hoists me up by the leg, and shakes it as if I am a deer he's just shot and he's making sure I'm dead. 

Not sur eI'm quite dead enough, he does the other leg and decided he should step in the middle of my back, (for the souvineer photo of his hunting trip)  I'm not worried--he's trained to stand on my back--in fact, I had  my  younger sister to do this  free of charge for years before she hit puberty, and now I'm paying Jack.

but he's an expert.  My sister while a natural at it, never really enjoyed the job--she cried all the time about falling off and not being able to balance.  (Just as a Where are they Now update, she still lacks balance.)

Jack has now moved on to crumpling my feet up as if they are the   pages of a piss poor first draft of a novel he is trying too hard to write.

And it feels great!  If you have even the slightest foot discomfort--let a guy crumple  up your feet for you--it's wonderful.  He's got a hand full of callouses,, and bunion, and chipped up toenail polish, and he's squeezing my foot like a lemon, then flicking my toes as if they are seeds, and I'm wondering if he's going to charge me extra for it.....who cares! 

I am perfectly comfortable with my body, and the beauty of it, flaws and all, and Jack, well he doens't really care.  He likes the callouses and stuff onmy feet--gives him a clearer picture of what he needs to work on.

"we'er gonna roll you over, now" he says.

and I say, "ok"

and flip over and he starts pressing on my belly--jabbing his fingers up under my ribs like a gun as if he's taking me hostage.

but he goes around my ribs and squeezes my belly up, pushes and rolls me and all this hurts a bit.  Especially when he presses on my ovaries...yeah, ouch.  Then he presses my hips--tracing imaginary lines of Meridians from hip to ribs and around again like he's winding the clock that is me, and I breathe inand out as directed--He's decided now to press my sides, and it occurs to me that Jack has just learned what many a seamstress knows--that I have a 3/4 inch waist.  Ffrom my last rib to my hip there is barely enough room for his finger--but he gets it in there. 

Then like I cat I use to have--quickly stands on my stomach, and puts his finger in my sternum putting all his weight on what I consider to be a very breakable and fragile body part.

Then he dismounts and puts my feet on his legs and lifts me like a toddler--that won't leave the mall--

and then he presses my hip flexor.  Now, let me tell you, I giggled.  I had too.  It tickled.

when he did the second hip, i said, "that tickles"

and he stopped. 

at one point he suggested I was cold, and he wrapped me like a pappoos then rubbed my neck and head--then he left me on the floor and went to the desk to write notes about me.

when I sat up, we chatted.

He suggested that I wore a green shirt becasue I was angry.... Hummmm, I didn't feel angry, I wore the shirt because, it's my favorite shirt, and it's loose fitting and i knew i'd be laying on the floor.

He also suggested that my liver and spleen lines were no tclear--that could be...my liver works hard to process the liquor i drink.

and he told me I eat too much sugar---I agreed.  Paid him went home and ate some gummy worms.

I do feel better.  Later I went to the physical therapist who used ultrasound to cure my back ache. 

I could do so many other things on my day off, but this sort of stuff is fun.

the Physical therapist, is really determined to get me running again. and she made me promise to come back for more treatments of ice and stretching.

Oh don tworry , I will!