See that gift certificate? I got it for Christmas 2012. That’s right, fifteen months ago. I still haven’t used it.
Because while I relish the thought of a soothing massage, I cringe at the notion of a stranger’s touch.
It’s well known massage offers a myriad of health benefits:
- Stress reduction
- Pain and muscle tension relief
- Disease management:
- Sports injuries
I know this.
I preach this.
And yet I don’t receive this.
Every time I consider scheduling an appointment, I picture nudity, vulnerable prone positioning, and unfamiliar hands.
Even worse, I picture the need for small talk while I’m trying to relax. My own internal oxymoron.
What Was I Thinking?
Several years ago during my one and only trip to Hawaii, I got so caught up in leis, luaus, and palm trees, I lost all sense of myself and booked a massage in the hotel spa. My masseur was to be a man named Akoni and the event was to occur the following afternoon.
For the rest of the day, I fretted. I fussed. I fidgeted my aching back.
Finally, I called and canceled. The image of a handsome Akoni rubbing my muscles while Israel Kamakawiwoʻole crooned “Somewhere over the Rainbow” in the background was simply too much to bear.
Hopeless, I know.
Occasionally, Mr. Rubin massages my back while watching TV, but his therapy is minimally effective. You see, an indirect relationship exists between his muscle kneading and the level of television action. As the excitement ratchets up, his rubbing trickles off, until soon it grinds to a halt. Then, like a rat in a cage, I wait breathlessly for the next pellet to fall.
Hmm, maybe I should redeem that gift certificate after all…
Do you get massages? Can you convince me it won’t be that bad?
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