Repost: Aren't Massages Supposed to be Relaxing???

This is a repost from my old blog. Many of my friends here like to go to Korean spas and get massages. Besides the fact that you walk around naked with little, itty-bitty Chinese and Koreans (they would be scarred for life, I mean seriously, can you imagine the staring that would ensue??? Oh my gosh, it makes me want to barf just thinking about it...hm, I guess the scarring would mostly be on my part), the following story only reiterates the reasons why I will never be getting a massage here. Okay, it's mostly about the whole naked thing BUT this is a good story (occurred in America last year sometime)...

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My phone rings. It's my friend Al. I love Al. We have a blast together.

Him: Hey! Wanna have dinner tonight?

Me: Sure. What time?

Him: Uh, let's say around 5? Oh, man. My back is killing me. I really need a massage....HEY, why don't we go get massages this afternoon and then you can just come back to my house to eat and play Spades.

Me: *silence*

Him: Uh, hello? Do you want to get a message with me?

Me: Are you joking me?

Now let me explain the thoughts racing through my head. I've never had a massage before. I have no idea what to expect. All I know is that I lie down on some wooden, peg-legged table, 'covered' by a hand towel (as if it could) while some stranger rubs their hands all over me.

As a big girl, I try to avoid all things written above...

Him: Oh, come on. It'll be fun. You'll love it.

After 10 minutes of discussion, he 'gently' persuades me to go get a massage.

He tells me "You can wear a sports bra and some running shorts". Yah, two things about that. Do I look like a girl who might have a sports bra and some running shorts? I race frantically around the house trying to find something so that I'm not completely naked under the 'imagined' handtowl. No such luck. The only pair of shorts I own are my beach shorts and they were wet and my seamstressing abilities fall WAY short of making a sports bra. So, now I'm in a panic on my way to Al's house considering running my car off the road into a ditch just to have a good excuse to back out of said "relaxing massage". If I didn't have knots in my back before, I surely did now.

I get to his house where he has already begun laughing at the panicked look on my face, while I'm gasping for breath and sweating. He thinks it's hilarious. Ha freaking ha.

We get to the "relaxing" massage place right on time and I am immediately taken back to my "relaxing" massage room. By now, I'm panting like a cat in heat, eyes darting, tongue unable to form words.

The masseuse, we'll call her Darlene, opens the door to my private room (shew! at least it's not some communal rub down), and I see an actual bed. Low and behold! It's a real bed with sheets and a blanket. I let out a long sigh of relief. Two of my fears have been set strait. No peg legs and a full covering of a sheet. She begins to ask if I'd ever had a massage and I explain that no, I haven't and that I'm a nervous wreck. She tells me where she'll be messaging (legs, arms, shoulders, back and head. Head? Yes, head). Front and back. Okay, here's where my next fear begins to formulate. I actually have to flip over mid-massage. With her in there.

Moving right along.

Her: Now, you can decide whether you want to wear your underwear or not. Most people don't but it's up to you.

Me: *blink* *blink* (searching for words that might make up a sentence) Ooooooh, okay. Yah, I think I'll keep mine on this time. Thaaaanks. (said in my most casual tone)

She leaves to let me get undressed and under the covers. Of course, I race like I'm in a marathon because God forbid, she come in while I'm standing in front of the door in all my glory. I get on the bed completely covered and wait the rest of the 4 minutes and 45 seconds that I had. But it was a good thing. It gave me some time to get my heaving breath under control.

She comes in and the massage ensues. Relaxing music. Minty lotion. Rubbing my legs. Okay, I'm actually getting the hang of this. In fact, it's quite nice. I may have to come get massages more often...

Now, before I go on. Let me explain that I have very sensitive shoulders and back. I always have. I've never been one for shoulder rubs. It hurts too much. That was probably some valuable information I should've relayed to Darlene before she got out her sledge hammer and went to work. (okay, she didn't really have a sledge hammer but it felt like she was drilling holes in my shoulder blades)

I promise you, I was actually screaming...in my head of course...while she massaged me. It was the most painful experience of my life. My feet were off the bed, toes curled tight, brain concentrating on not yelling out profanities.

Her: Oooo, let me get this knot here...with my man hands that are like little chainsaws cutting out every muscle in your back.

Me: Huuuhhhhhmmmmmuuummmhhhhmmmuuuhhmm. Yahhhh, thaaat's niiiiice....

After 10 minutes of torture, it was on to the back of the head. Where I'm pretty sure half a bottle of lotion was absorbed into my hair. Head rub=good, right? Yah, not so much with the chainsaw hands.

I survived the mid-massage flip. She went onto my arms, hands and feet. The best part of the whole ordeal. And I was actually able to enjoy it. Mostly because it was almost over but also because it wasn't anywhere near my shoulders.

Legs, good. Arms, good. Hands, good. Feet, good. Back and head? Yah, not so much.

Just so you know, it's important to drink lots of water after a message. You need to pee out all the toxins released. Lots of water. More than two or three glasses of water. That isn't enough. And if you don't, it might feel like you have big bruises all over your shoulders and back and head for the rest of day and night and next day. And that might make it hard to sleep and move and do all your normal daily activities. So, yah, drink lots of water...