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Wednesday,
March 14, 2007
Well, that didn't quite go as planned
As
my back was still hurting, I thought I would stop off at a local massage boutique
(NOT a spa, and boy, that was a mistake) and see about getting a theraputic
massage. I should've known I was in trouble when my masseur's previous
customer, an older lady with hair that looked like it had been caught in a
tornado, stopped at the front desk and asked delicately if her masseur was
new.
I have no idea if he was new or not; I do know that I feel like someone's been trying to pound stakes into my back (I don't DO pressure points -- I had an acupressure massage years ago and my back looked like a Dalmatian's hide, I was so badly bruised). I finally had to tell him to ease off, and I got the sense that he thought I was being a baby.
After that, I had to lie flat on my back while he vigorously rubbed the sides of my neck (I don't like that, and it's potentially dangerous if a customer has clots in his or her carotids) so my lower back now hurts like blazes (big of butt, small of back, you do the geometry) and he kept rubbing my scalp with oily hands so I also have to wash my hair. Oh, and when I mentioned that my back pain was partially due to a bad bed, he started in with how his wife owned a furniture store and he could offer me a discount on a new bed. Um...no.
All in all, not the most pleasant of experiences. The bouncy young thing at the desk who recommended him when I scheduled my appointment asked me how I felt. I paused for a moment, then said "Scrubbed" and limped out of the shop. Next time, I'm going to a proper spa that doesn't have high school students working the front desk. This chain store mentality is for the birds.