Massages Are Nice

So, Blair and I got massages the other day. We’ve discovered, or rather, Blair discovered, that he prefers to have us get massages together. I’ve been a big fan of masages for years, and get them somewhat regularly, Blair has only recently discovered the joy of a massage given by someone who knows what the crap they are doing, and is paid to stay there long enough to do it.

I’m sure many of you are acquainted with or can well imagine what I like to call the ‘husband massage’. Five minutes of generic back rubbing followed by a lascivious offer to do the front next.

(insert loving eyeroll)

I don’t mean MY husband of course, who not ony reads my blog but gives the best massages ever!

ahem….

This complication is avoided and a quality massage recieved when you visit a professiondal reputable masseuse.

Anyway, I’ve found a masseuse I like. I request her when I make an appointment. Blair has not settled on anyone in particular yet and takes whoever he is given when we show up.

The other day, we were unfortunately saddled with a conversational “one-upper”.

you know who I mean…..

You: I went to a concert.,
O-U: I met the lead singer.

You: I had a baby.
O-U: I had twins!

You: I went to Disneyland.
O-U: I went to the moon!

As the massages began:

My masseuse (M): how’s the heat? Not too much?
Me: It’s fine, thanks.

Blair’s masseuse (S): How’s the heat? How’s your head rest? How’re your legs? Is the music too loud?

Blair: Fine.

M: Your son came home from his mission right? How is it having him back?
Me: Very Nice.

S: How many kids do you have? How old are they? How many years have you guys been married? Where to do you work?

Blair: um…7.

A few minutes passed and then:

S: Do you have fun plans for Thanksgiving?
Me: We are headed out of town to see my sister and her family and my parents.

S: I have 3 sisters, and some brothers, I’m 5th out of 6. We don’t get along great but it’s not me it’s them. I’m a very happy person but they just hate it that I’m happy. We get together, all of us, every year. We’re very close.

After about 20 minutes, we (M, me and Blair) were all basically afraid to speak.

At one point, M actually sort of whispered to me her question about the level of pressure she was exerting. I gave her a silent thumbs up.

I don’t mind conversation during a massage. Many times, knowing some of the stresses in your life can give the masseuse clues about how to best proceed with your massage.

Blair and I have had several couples massages and had the joint masseurs work quite well together, balancing conversation with quiet time.

We seriously could not say one word with out S having a similar, but much more dramatic (in her mind anyway) experience.

At the front desk, as we were checking out, Blair suddenly remembered the name of the the previous masseuse he’d had and how much he liked her:)

Anyway, have a Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Eat pie!!!

And if you haven’t, go like my son Alex’s facebook page (www.facebook.com/stargazersandsilhouettes) for his band so he can be a famous rock star!

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2 Responses to Massages Are Nice

  1. Melody says:

    Happy Thanksgiving!

  2. Leslie says:

    You don’t mean your husband? Who’s husband DO you mean, and why is someone else’s husband making you lascivious offers anyway? … ahem.

    What kind of massage therapists are you seeing? Perhaps therein lies the root of the lascivious offers … http://www.ehow.com/about_6499710_difference-between-massage-therapist-masseuse.html

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