There is nothing better for stress than a bloody good massage. I had my first massage in the Czech republic a few years ago and must confess I loved it. Unfortunately as menopause interrupted my life I found myself abandoning life’s little treats such as an occassional massage.
So to rectify this situation I checked myself into my local beauty salon for a little treat. As Christmas brings it’s own stresses I decided I’d meet them head on with a little massage and try to bypass the whole Christmas stress issues that I endured every year.
Now the thing about a massage is, well, you’ve got to get your clothes off. I must confess that I’m usually reluctant to get my kit off, but it’s a requirement for a massage. This in itself causes me stress.
I also wonder about the contrived voices of massage therapists. They’re always soft almost like smooth milk chocolate. Soothing sultry voices, I’m convinced they’re contrived as nobody grows up speaking like that.
‘Undress down to your panties’ she whispered at me.
Now the word ‘panties’ implies something small and famine. My drawers are neither small nor feminine, oh no, mine are so large that I can fold them four times and they’d still be bigger than most ladies ‘panties,’ ’tis a fact. They come up to my boobs in the front and to my shoulder blades in the back.
A massage table is not that big either, bearing in mind that I am the same size sidewards as I am frontwards. Laying back my boobs run for the cover of my armpits securing my large knickers in place.
On the outside I’m the picture of composure but on the inside my poor mind is racing. My therapist is covering me in oil, lavender I think, the problem is one wrong move by either of us and I could shoot off the table like a giant oiled missile. God knows the damage I could do to innocent people and unsuspecting buildings.
‘Relax’ she whispered in her sultry voice.
I keep my eyes closed and grip the table for fear of sliding off. I do start to relax as she massages the stress in my shoulders and neck, she massages the side of my head and I can feel the tension leave my body.
Until… ‘I’m going to turn you over and roll down your panties now, is that ok with you’
Panic filled me, my boobs, my massive boobs, she’ll see them and recoil in horror. But I couldn’t say no, or could I.
‘Roll them where’ I demanded
‘Just to your hip bone’ sultry voice oozed .
‘Yes fine’ what the hell was I saying.
I braced myself with closed eyes hoping she wouldn’t make an remarks.
‘Oh’ she whispered
I knew it, she was horrified by my enormous boobs and wobbly buddha like belly.
‘I’ll just roll down your panties’
Oh no.. they were wedged under my boobs, she was going to have to touch my boobs to get to my drawers.
I should have done it myself but I my embarrassment overwhelmed me so I kept my eyes closed and hoped it would all be over soon. The stress of de-stressing was bloody killing me.
She lifted my left boob and started to roll down my ‘panties’ then replacing my boob down onto my chest she patted it. She repeated the process for the right boob. Both my boobs had returned to their resting position and I was being to relax again.
My poor therapist worked very hard to ensure she massaged all of me, I was half expecting her to charge me extra because of the massive surface area she had to cover.
The it happened, and not for the first time, I drifted off to sleep. A deep relaxing sleep that only happened during a massage.
I was woken with a start as she rolled my drawers back up under my boobs and patted them gently again before telling me to ‘Relax, there’s no need to rush you just relax’
So I did relax, until I tried to stand and found that my poor legs had gone all wibbly wobbly, the sign of a good massage.
Now how was I going to get to a bus stop without the use of my legs, this was going to stress me out.
The Joy of Stress Relief