The thing is between me and massages
Massages I have always looked as a luxury thing. You could never hear me say like ‘So I will go for the groceries and then I will get my 1 hour me time, you know? Self-care girl, gotta do it. I gots to get my massage.’’ No.
If you got money for massage, you got money. When people would tell me that they just HAD to get a massage, and even more, that they have their massage person, I somehow visualize in my head that this person HAS to have also caviar someday in a month too, and not like me, once in a lifetime. Cause another person bought it, not me of course.
I didn’t have caviar, but I did get a massage, but mostly from my friend who is a yogi and she is fabulous in it. Let’s face it, most of us, no matter how great and pleasurable it is — it takes time and it’s not as easy to get relaxed. Person you do not know is in a room with you, where you are half naked, they are touching your body with their bare hands and you are supposed to get relaxed fully. As pleasurable as it is, it can be difficult.
I guess my massage person was my friend. And not always was she able to massage me of course. And college makes a toll on all of us, and so did I need to find and pay. And I had it three time so far. And all of them is one story more special than other.
So let’s start with the first one.
As I was attempting to rule my college indipendent life living in the same city away from my parents (hell yeah), not only did I live in the city center, because God forbid I would cross the borders of the city center into mortal non-city center part of the world (jokes.but true), I was definitely broke. My meals contained of popcorn that I would eat at my job where I sold pop corn in a theatre and minimum of 2 day pot meal plans. And wine, of course. I was studying, and as a designer you tend to spend quite some hours in front of a screen. One thing lead to another — I was walking down the street with tears in my eyes for every muscle I did not know existed on my body was bringing me excruciating pain. And so like every Croatian person I went to the sites of deals, and I found myself a massage, cheap and across my place. So I went there and asked them to massage only my back, though the offer was for the entire body. A very nice girl who was studying kinesiology was massaging me, and she just started two weeks ago. Yay. Mind that it was December, and anyone who knows Croatia or winter or Croatia in winter knows, it ain’t warm. And it wasn’t there. So there I was, on the table, asking the girl to massage my back, freezing to death.
Also, most of the girls clients were footballers and the mass of the muscles of footballers and mine are not the same. So I went back home with a cold, sore muscle, back pain and a tenner less in my pocket.
Let’s go to the next one.
My massage friend was busy, and she reffered me to her friend, a lovely girl who I connected well and we spoke about energy and reiki and India, cause I am into that too. And now, a benefit also about having a friend massage you is that you feel comfortable. And since I have a lot of miogelosis in my back, it is painful and you will probably be vocal for when someone crushes your muscle tissue. In my case, I laugh. I laugh a lot. Once, when I was massaged by my friend I laughed so hard, that when we went down the house, the guy who works in a parking space just below her was looking at us confused trying to figure out what the hell was coming out of her open window.
So when her friend was massaging me, I felt that she was helping me, but on the other hand, I was holding myself from laughing cause… how does someone react when you laugh like all the audience of a sit-com combined?
Funnily enough, at one moment she even commented ‘’Well you are quite tensed’’ and ‘’mmhmm’’ was my response.
So that didn’t help as much either.
The last one was definitely my special one.
When I did my field research for my master diploma in India, I was swamped with work. I didn’t stop for 3 months — weekdays weekend all of it. And under the heat of an Indian Sun and not to mention the temperature and with the crush of all of my planned trips and dreams, I have decided to treat myself with a message. And the goddamn fanciest I could find. So it wasn’t just a massage, it was a spa. And in the Marriot hotel. The moment I went in there I felt like I didn’t belong but I kept a mantra in my head ‘’You belong here baby, you are a queen and you will treat yourself right’’.
And so I went to the spa, and will a conscious movement I flipped my jaw up, because it was beautiful. Beyond words. The waiting room was more fancy than probably my apartment will ever be, all together.
You have a rocky pathway with lights to your suite (!!!). The suite comprised a changing room, a bathroom and the massage room. It had beautiful dark wood furniture, an armchair, wonderful music in the back and ambiental light. The changing room was the size of my bedroom in my parent’s place. Just to say that.
So I changed, but on my own slippers of the moment, the bathrobe and went to the massage room. My massage person came in and with a very soft yoga voice/meditation voice instructed how he was planning to massage me and if it was alright with me. Massage away, I said. And as I layed down, in peace, so did my bowels started to relax.
As those who know me well know that digestion is not my friend. As most of vegetarians, the belly of a 6 month pregnant woman is no mystery to us.
Though I suspected this might happen, I told myself I will not eat before I go for my fancy massage, thus decided for a fluid rather than a bagel or a dosa. But little did I expect that something liquid that I have chosen will make me tense yet again. Mango lassi, people, do not drink it before massage!
And there I was, though in India, paying for my 1 hour massage as if I was a rich person, and forcing myself to stay awake in order not to give any smelly surprises to my massage person. No need to say the comment ‘Oh,you are tense’ was there again. But my tenses for some reason was fully gone once I went to the sauna, though I personally hate it. Why would I pay to stay inside a place where I sweat? I sweat anyway, on a natural basis, so why would I give money to do that??
So my beautiful suite, my awake, tense massage in a Marriot Hotel in Bangalore, which costed almost as much as rent, was an experience, I will tell you that.
And so, when I had an idea last week to have another massage, I only wondered what in God’s name will happen now? Will I have an explosion of some sort, a diarrhea maybe? So I checked my menstrual calendar and there it was — a projectile day. No..no it cannot be. This is for a medium post — hehe. So I stayed awake, feeling my stomach, my body not allowing me to have my caviar-moment-experience-style-thing. I am not that rich for my massages to be carefree. And I thought — it will happen. No matter tampon cup or whatever, I will probably bleed all over my massage table.
But I didn’t. I think the cure of me getting a massage was done. At least for now. I laughed, I laughed a lot. I warned my massage person that I laugh. I thought — probably this isn’t the weirdest thing ever she had. Maybe someone farted before or God knows. And you know what? That is what we did. My massage person and I spoke about farting for my entire massage. We spoke about things we use not to fart; we spoke about Indian ayurvedic shit to eat (Triphala is my thang) and you know what?
It was bloody wonderful.
Without blood bless me. For curse is out.
