The Rub Down

So today I did something I've only done once before in my life. No, not jumping out of a plane. No, not jumping off a bridge. Not jumping over or off of anything really. I got a massage. I got my first professional massage 3 years ago courtesy of my entire department who left me for the Athens Olympics for a month. Not quite an equal trade but a nice attempt. I told myself that after the marathon I would get a massage and I can think of no better week to get one - what with all the skunks, tests & flying cyclists I've had to deal with. Since I'm still quite the newbie at the whole massage thing, I forgot how much effort it takes to prepare for one.

1. Shaving - you have to shave your entire leg, not just up to the knee. This is unfamiliar territory for me, seeing as how it's winter now and there will be no need for my pasty whites to be exposed to sunlight until next July and it's been approximately 8 years since someone touched my legs on purpose. Creepy Spanish guys in techno clubs do NOT count.
2. Shampoo - you can't use the weekend, intensive dandruff control, I-can-smell-that-odor-from-across-the-room-and-are-you-sure-the-skunk-hasn't-returned-to-spray-our-house-again shampoo. Luckily at the last minute, I remembered this and changed to the celebrity endorsed, mango smelling stuff - disposing of a quarter-sized lump of orange Head & Shoulders. $1.27 washed down the drain. . .literately.
3. Digits - Your fingers and toes are going to be massaged so they have to be in good shape as well. Luckily, I am a pro at slapping on nail polish at the last second because I have a gene in me that makes me late for everything except soccer games. I only had to open my top bathroom drawer and there was the go-to pink & clear polishes for the toes & fingers, respectively.
4. Under garments - Have to be cute, none of this plain color boring stuff. I don't want a stranger to think I'm boring or too conservative, (because I'm not) nor do I want them thinking I will be going home with Big Joe tonight after a couple of rounds at Dante's. (because I won't)

This is hard work! I probably won't go to this much hard work again until my wedding day. I can handle this every 3 years.

A massage is a very interesting thing. In a nutshell, I am paying someone to grease me up and rub me down. Yeah, put like that, it definitely doesn't sound appealing. I'm just lying there on a table, with one article of clothing on and someone is digging into my lower back and neck. Only a handful of people have seen me with one article of clothing on and for most of those viewings, that article was a diaper. And this is legal?

But once you're in the middle of the massage - it's so worth it. Except that you have about an hour to think to yourself. But first you have to drown out the annoying background music before you can do any thinking. Now I'm a fan of instrumental music but I simply don't enjoy New Age or sounds from nature. If I want to hear the birds, I will open my window thank you very much. A little Jim Brickman or William Joseph will make my week but anything with a sitar and you might as well have Marion Carpet commercials running in the background on a continuous loop. (FYI - Carpet Carl bugs the heck out of me for no particular reason.) So once we've tuned out the music, we can tune into our thoughts. That actually could be quite scary so maybe the monk chanting would be good for me after all.

Hmmmm, what can I think about while a stranger is rubbing my lower hip with oil? So I start making my to-do list for when I get home: make lab flashcards, read 30 pages in my book, study the flashcards I made, watch a movie I have from the library. . .but that totally defeats the purpose of the massage and relaxing. I try really hard not to think about the totally and completely messed up dream I had last night that included my premie baby whose head was separated from its body but was still alive (I know!) I can think about my lines for Treehouse tomorrow - nope, haven't memorized those yet. And then you start playing the "what if" game. And unless all your questions involve winning the lottery, marrying John Krasinski, or traveling around the world (all three of which I fully intend to do at some point in my life) that game can get out of hand FAST! So I tell my mind to go dark. Just go black. Game over. The end. Hasta luego. Nope can't do that either. By now, the music really is playing instrumental music with piano. Yea! I think I recognize this song. Is it from a movie? Is it from church? Did I ever sing this at school? OK, time to go dark again. No more thinking.

And before you know it, it's over! If you're ever looking for a way to pass the day because it's going too slow, a message will put you through a black hole of sorts. Time passes way too quickly. And in another 3 years, I get to go through it all over again.