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09.13.02 -


Remember how, just a mere two entries ago, I was whining about how I never took advantage of Workplace’s free massage benefit? How I was all worried that somebody might See Me Nekkid?

Let me tell you, if I had to do naked yoga on a table at the next company meeting in order to get more massages, I would. I would even do Downward Facing Dog, and let everyone see my hooters swaying gently in the breeze.

I guess the real reason I didn’t get one before is that I was squidgy about having somebody touching my nude bod. I thought it would be really awkward, like when you get a breast exam. Like it maybe would tickle, or just be embarrassing as hell, and I’d lie there the whole time with my face flaming and my teeth gritted and helpless thoughts like does this seem like the setting for a bad porn movie? running through my head.

I decided to sign up for one on Wednesday because lately my back and neck have been aching like hell. Whether it’s office stress, or the fact that I haven’t been working out, or – shit, the alignment of the planets or something, it has sucked.

Our masseuse is named Val. She’s a little snippet of a girl with tattoos and spiky hair, and the unlikely perkiness of a stewardess (Thanks! Buh-bye!). She led me to our Massage Room – I think it used to be the Where All Random Electronics Junk Goes To Die Room – which she has painted and decorated herself. It’s all blue and serene and stuff, with quiet music playing. She left briefly so I could disrobe; I yanked off my clothes in kind of a surreal state (I’m…I’m undressing at work), and quickly slipped under the covers on the massage table. And oooh, there was a heating pad in there.

Val came back in, explained I should try to simply relax and take deep breaths and then – well, I can only say that for the next hour, I was completely blissed out. She coaxed kinks and knots out of each square inch of flesh I own. She even rubbed my head, which felt so amazing it was worth the Crisco-hair result.

Afterwards, I felt almost exactly as if I had sucked in a giant bong hit. I was mellow and buzzed and I even had a funky taste in my mouth (supposedly toxins being released by deep tissue work, ew). The low-grade headache I get almost every day from gawping at a computer screen for hours on end was completely gone. My back and neck felt all warm and liquidy and marvelous.

I floated back upstairs and wrote my name on the sign-up sheet for next week, and the This-place-is-bullshit/I-love-it-here scales tipped mightily in favor of Workplace.

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