Celebrating the “big” days in life are difficult to do.  Do I make it special if in truth it’s just another day?  Well, maybe a huge effort is not necessary for every occasion.  To avoid disappointment I set my sites on making it a good day.  It is a day that calls for celebration, so the “special” part is most likely already there.  If I happen to surpass good and it ends up being a great day, then that’s fine by me.

As my birthday loomed around the corner, I decided to take the day off from the lab and do something I have never done before.  Originally I wanted to take a mini-road trip, but the thought of having to get up super-early the next morning nixed that after getting a late start.  To salvage the day and the desire to do something never done personally, I opted to end my birthday with a professional massage.  It’s been a few days, and I’m still not sure how I feel about it.

I walked inside to the waiting area and was handed a medical release, benefits of massage information card, and a medical survey sheet.  Filled them out.  Handed them back.  Waited for the massage therapist to call me.

A lady walks out and introduces herself.  In a soft voice she instructs me to enter the second room on the right.  We walk back to the room.

Crashing waves and bird noises alternate over “muzak” that reminds me of a love scene in Top Gun.  Not my first choice.  It’s so quiet in the back area, almost library quiet.  I feel the need to use my 5-inch voice to answer all her questions on my massage boundaries.  Red light on the scalp massage and green on everything else.  Keep a yellow light on the firmness, proceed with caution.  The actual massage hour begins after being instructed to disrobe to my comfort level and lie down under the sheets on the table with the back of my knees over the pillow.  I almost needed to take notes.

The majority of my garments find themselves neatly folded on a chair a few moments later as I hop onto the table.  My urge to giggle is overwhelming while pulling the cool sheets up to my chin.

I’m naked, and it’s cold.  It’s cold and I’m naked.  “Burr, it’s cold in here!  There must be some Toros in the atmosphere!” (from Bring It On)  Haha, that line never gets old.  There’s about to be a woman coming in here and touching me who I don’t even know.  Who thought of this?  Touching people, touching naked people, touching naked people for money.  Weird.  This is weird.  I’m cold.  This reminds me of that other time…

Knock.  Knock.  “Are you all set?  May I come in?”

“Sure.”

She details the massage plan which will begin as I lie on my back working from the head and arms to the legs and feet.  She will then instruct me to turn over and finish with my back and the other side of my legs.

I listen and start trying to do what I think a relaxed person would do; I listen and close my eyes.  This is so weird.  Her hands are soft or clammy.  Is that the oil?  Do they use oil?  It’s hard to keep my eyes closed.  Close eyes.  Jesus, we’re supposed to be relaxing here!  Focus on chilling out.  I need to swallow my saliva.  Gulp.  That was really noisy.  Why am I salivating so much?  I am definitely a salivator.  For sure.  The dentist always needs that suction thing a lot.  I have to swallow again.  Focus on making it quieter this time.  Relaxed people are quiet.  Gulp.  Ah, Jesus!  Too noisy.

The lady’s soft voice interrupts, “Is everything okay? ”

“Yep.  All good here.”

Relax, man.  Her hands are on my collar bone.  They move to each side of my sternum.  Too close to The Ladies.  Haha, boobies.  That tickles.  Do not laugh.  DO NOT LAUGH.  Remember that one CSI episode where the lady puts a different lead on her chest and suffocates her daughter due to mistaken identity.  It showed her pulse being calm the whole time cause she switched them.  Sneaky lady.  Sucked when they told her she killed her own daughter.  Not cool, lady, not cool at all.  I wonder what my pulse is.  I like CSI.  I like Spike tv.  Am I clenching my jaw?  Relaxed people don’t clench their jaw.  Man, I am getting a massage and my teeth are almost grinding.  Breathe and relax, Jessica.  You can do it…”all night long”.  Ha, classic Waterboy.  Too much saliva again.  Try to swallow quietly this time.  Seriously, why do I salivate so much?  I want a Starbucks cheese and fruit plate.  Mmm, that sounds good.  Cheese.  Fruit.  OUCH!  What in the heck is she touching?!  Ah, too much pressure.  Get away from that area.  Better.  AH!  NO, she’s coming back.  No, no, NO.  I think there is a tendon there.  Toughen up.  Don’t be such a sissy.  Ow, ow, OW…nope, she goes there one more time and I have to say something.

She interrupts again, “Okay, I am going to remove the pillow and lift the sheet while you roll onto your stomach.”

Her shoulder/tendon massage is done.  Thank God for small miracles and salvaging the connection between my torso and limbs.

“How’s the pressure?”

“Umm…it’s okay.  Good.”  Good, minus almost snapping some cartilage to relieve the tension.  The sheet lifts slightly indicating it is time to turn.  Now I’m on my stomach.  This is much better.  Maybe more of my tension is held in my back?  Shoot yeah, it is!  I have the back of an 80-year-old woman.  Ah, much better.  I wonder how long I have been lying here.  I’m naked.  My face hurts.  They don’t make the head rest for small faces.  Am I clenching my jaw again…geez.  Relax.  That’s better.  Keep relaxing.  Good job.  You’re almost there.

Then the massage was over.

I can’t remember all the crazy stuff going through my head at the time.  A week’s worth of thoughts will wash a few of the other ones out the door, but in the meantime I am working on the ability to loosen up physically and mentally.  There is no use in paying for relaxation assistance if I am only hindering the process by not mentally shutting down enough to enjoy it.

After the lady finished up she asked how everything was and if there were any questions.  I asked about the order of the massage.  She said each therapist has their own way of doing things, but she prefers to massage from the head first down to the feet.  She also threw in that I need some more work done.  Apparently there was plenty of tension left, especially in my back.  Lady, tell me something I don’t know.

Any notable therapeutic effects of the massage didn’t seem worthwhile enough to turn this into a monthly habit.  Dark rooms, a stranger, being naked—the whole deal was all too distracting and overstimulating for me.   I used to have a friend that would pop my back for me whenever I needed it.  I would call and he would come.  It was a nice set-up.  He began by massaging my back until I was super-relaxed, almost ready to go to sleep.  His hands would rest on my lower back, eventually pushing up really hard, and inevitably followed by a few seconds of continuous popping and an “Oh, Goddddd” from me.  Now that’s a tension reliever worth signing up for.  His back-popping massages were almost more of an addiction, one thing we (my back and I) dearly miss.

Maybe I’ll save that as my birthday wish for next year.