Wednesday, January 11, 2012


Today I had a discussion with someone about massages. A friend told me that he once went to school to become a massage therapist. He is now a ___ rep alongside me. And no, I will never give him an old elbow-nudge and tell him to please let me cash in on his awesome training. I had a massage once. It was nice. I'm not sure I'm ever in a place where I would go pay money to get one again, unless I find a Groupon (but that's a whole 'nother discussion...Groupon gives me the power to do things I wouldn't normally do...) but anyway, I digress.

I get heebie jeebies thinking about giving a stranger a massage. I'm not so sure it's about the touching, the possibly gross body I may be rubbing down, or the uncomfortable silence/ non-silence that goes down during that hour. It's more about the...pleasure. Ew. I feel dirty even just writing that! Nooo. I don't mean like THAT kind of massage. More like, the "I'm-only-here-to-pay-you-to-make-me-feel-pleasure" kind of transaction that happens during a massage. So for this reason, I will never be a massage therapist, a masseuse (there is a difference, I learned today), or probably ever get a non-medically-necessary massage again. I pedicure with the best of them, though, but that may be where I draw the line.

"I think it moved."

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