I went for a massage the other day and am happy to report that I now have the thighs of a normal person. You probably have no idea what I mean by this. Before, my thighs were basically flexed even when I was relaxed and then Hulk-flexed when I actually did flex them. In any case, I went to get a massage so that I could live my life with normal legs.
Some of you are probably thinking, “Oh, that’s nice. I love massages. They’re so relaxing and soothing because they play Bach and it makes me all happy and warm”. WRONG. I don’t know who your masseuse is, but it sure as heck isn’t mine. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she is a lovely woman and she did really great things for me, but relaxing and soothing are not words I would use to describe what she did to my legs. Gracious.
She massaged muscles that I a) didn’t even know I had, and b) didn’t know were in pain. Holy flying crap weasels. As she was massaging my left hip, I was fairly certain that I was going to cry into the weird face cradle thing. I’m also fairly certain that I blacked out as she was working on my calves. What she did to my thigh was by far the worst, though. She took a suction cup to my leg and used it to pull apart the layers of scar tissue around my muscle by my knee. I think, had I not been in the company of others, I probably would’ve cried, vomited, and then let loose a very creative set of expletives. SO INCREDIBLY PAINFUL.
But now I feel great! So I guess it was worth it (not that I believed that at the time).
~ Hilary Axle Hatchet
P.S. Here’s something happy for you: