We got one of those couples' massage deals and for me it was prenatal. I was hoping for the entertainment of having one of those tables with the hole cut in the middle for my whale size belly to plop through. No such luck. I got a body pillow. Oh well. I have discovered that one just never hears enough before getting pregnant about how physically awkward life really is when pregnant. A massage is no exception.
To begin with, I went to the bathroom before we left for the place, which was only ten minutes away. We walked into the dim foyer to announce our appointment. We were settled down with three pages of paper work to ensure we would not sue the company for any sort of reason. We were encouraged to drink plenty of water enabling our bodies to detox better through hydration. They were ignorant, of course, that my husband drinks around ten cups of water a day, while I drink 12-16! I had already had about ten and had just relieved myself. I was not about to drink more and risk interrupting my fifty minute massage!
I went one more time before we began. I practically grunted my round self up onto the table. I decided this place was not properly prepared for pregnant women - especially vertically challenged pregnant women. I snuggled up to the body pillow. Everything was dim and they played this elevator sort of music that normally I would have laughed at. My ADD had kicked in and I had too much energy to be slow and relaxed and in the mood for this mellow environment. Steve transitioned much more easily.
As a woman and talker and people pleaser, I resisted the obligated urge to make conversation with my masseuse. I remained still and quiet. I was amazed to discover how easy it was to succumb to the music and the candle light and the smells and a strange woman touching me. I quickly went limp, occasionally falling into a doze.
The massage began at 6:13. It ended at 6:54. We were definitely jipped nine minutes. Must we suffer because their schedule was running late. What injustice! Nonetheless, I grunted and rolled my way off the table and ran straight to the bathroom. Upon exiting into the foyer, we were bombarded with a pleasant but boring shpiel about the never-ending benefits of becoming a member so we could return again and again for an amazing discount. I suppose they assume everyone comes out from their massage hypnotized to respond with a "yes" to anything they offer. Me - my brain was turned so much to mush that I scarcely comprehended a word they said. I simply allowed my eyes to glaze, not at all concerned with whether or not they noticed. I just let my determined and more awake husband adamantly refuse all offers. The only thing I was able to intelligently form in my brain was the question of whether or not I could convince them to give us a discount for the nine minutes we missed out on. Once again, though, I was overcome with lethargy and merely followed Steve out to the car. Actually, I sort of limped out because I felt pains in odd places. I suppose it was the detoxing of stress from the intense relaxation or whatever.
Steve and I decided it was too abrupt to end the evening there. So we ran to the grocery store. He bought a bottle of wine for himself and I bought a gallon of chocolate ice cream with chocolate chunks in it. We got home and sat on the couch and savored our treats and talked when we felt like it.
I decided that Steve is capable of a massage just as good as that lady and he is free and he is in love with me. If we had money, though, and if I was not pregnant, I might invest in a monthly massage or something. After involving ourselves in something that so much of our culture raves about, we decided, in general, it is not as big of a deal as others make it out to be.
My report to the world about professional massages: I suppose they are worth it... but if you desire the ultimate experience...do not go when you are pregnant.
Men have it so easy.
I went one more time before we began. I practically grunted my round self up onto the table. I decided this place was not properly prepared for pregnant women - especially vertically challenged pregnant women. I snuggled up to the body pillow. Everything was dim and they played this elevator sort of music that normally I would have laughed at. My ADD had kicked in and I had too much energy to be slow and relaxed and in the mood for this mellow environment. Steve transitioned much more easily.
As a woman and talker and people pleaser, I resisted the obligated urge to make conversation with my masseuse. I remained still and quiet. I was amazed to discover how easy it was to succumb to the music and the candle light and the smells and a strange woman touching me. I quickly went limp, occasionally falling into a doze.
The massage began at 6:13. It ended at 6:54. We were definitely jipped nine minutes. Must we suffer because their schedule was running late. What injustice! Nonetheless, I grunted and rolled my way off the table and ran straight to the bathroom. Upon exiting into the foyer, we were bombarded with a pleasant but boring shpiel about the never-ending benefits of becoming a member so we could return again and again for an amazing discount. I suppose they assume everyone comes out from their massage hypnotized to respond with a "yes" to anything they offer. Me - my brain was turned so much to mush that I scarcely comprehended a word they said. I simply allowed my eyes to glaze, not at all concerned with whether or not they noticed. I just let my determined and more awake husband adamantly refuse all offers. The only thing I was able to intelligently form in my brain was the question of whether or not I could convince them to give us a discount for the nine minutes we missed out on. Once again, though, I was overcome with lethargy and merely followed Steve out to the car. Actually, I sort of limped out because I felt pains in odd places. I suppose it was the detoxing of stress from the intense relaxation or whatever.
Steve and I decided it was too abrupt to end the evening there. So we ran to the grocery store. He bought a bottle of wine for himself and I bought a gallon of chocolate ice cream with chocolate chunks in it. We got home and sat on the couch and savored our treats and talked when we felt like it.
I decided that Steve is capable of a massage just as good as that lady and he is free and he is in love with me. If we had money, though, and if I was not pregnant, I might invest in a monthly massage or something. After involving ourselves in something that so much of our culture raves about, we decided, in general, it is not as big of a deal as others make it out to be.
My report to the world about professional massages: I suppose they are worth it... but if you desire the ultimate experience...do not go when you are pregnant.
Men have it so easy.
totally made me laugh! i had a 'pregnancy massage' when i was pregnant with kristen, and they did have the hole-in-the-table tables. it wasn't so bad that way. oh well, at least you can say 'been there, done that'. :)
ReplyDeleteListen here!It is so worth it!Everything it is talked up to be usually....but all in all depends on the massuse and their quality....but yeah I would be upset by 9 minutes....that coulds have been ur calfs and scalp massage...lol....glad u finally got one...:) Ive been wanting one again.....miss u!
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