In these times of burying your extra cash in the front yard (assuming you have any) or stuffing the lining of your luggage, one of the greatest stress relievers may be experiencing a full-body massage. I recently found a gift certificate for one in a book where I had been using it as a bookmark. It was with grand anticipation that I made an appointment. As I laid there I realized that there must be some relevant commonalities that all recipients of the 'rub down' share.
After you disrobe and place your face in that little pillowed hole you take that deep breath and hope that what you are about to experience will not include the following. You pray that if there is a break or change in the air flow that it doesn't emanate from you. Then you wonder if keeping 'those' muscles tight will be apparent to your therapist. You pray that any broken wind would be silent and any accompanying odor would be covered by whatever incense is burning. I'd like to see the syllabus that massage students study on this issue.
It always seems to me that the therapist spends the bulk of your paid time working on your back as opposed to an equal amount of time devoted to all your limbs. I believe this is a method to avoid all that draping and hiding of your litigious anatomical parts. I further attest that all massage participants also fear that moment when your back cheeks are revealed and pray that the therapist will neither have an auditory reaction nor break into a distinct Sir Mix-A-Lot song.
Finally, as your blissful state increases you realize that you are laid out on a slab somewhat like the morgue but with heated sheets and heavenly music playing; and what about THAT music? Have you ever really listened to it?
It is slow tempo with usually only one or two instruments contributing. Who writes massage themes? Do they earn Grammy awards or is it the biggest musical coupe in the business? Does Clapton or Elton suggest that they lay some massage tracks down before they really get to work? Is there an actual genre for these peaceful compositions? Give me a piano and I think I could ding out massage music. Since I am looking to re-career maybe I should research the possibilities.
As I approached the end of my stress-relieving 90 minutes, I wondered if the massage had been wasted since my mind was strutting about with so many musings. No, I decided I felt good but then when I was presented with the inclusive cup of post-massage water I noted that my therapist's name was Lear and my brain just retreated to the place of giggles.