So here I am in the epicenter of massage connoisseurs – the far East - Lang Kawi, Malaysia to be exact. You can ask for no better place to have a bad back or stiff limb.
Dad had found a masseuse so brilliant, he told me, that he now has her come direct to his flat. And so, slightly stiff from the flight and in need of a good rub down, we arranged for her to come. I expected the best.
I don’t like massages anymore. They are far too stressful.
She started with my feet. Ticklish. I could feel my whole body tense up as I tried to resist wriggling away.
She moved on to my calves, knees and thighs. Knees? Whoever decided the back of your knees needed massaging? Okay, so as my boyfriend regularly points out, I have very knobbly knees. Award winning, in fact. (Wootton County Primary end of term Knobbly Knee Competition – winner.) But there were times I thought she’d dislocate the poor buggers. I remained taut, my teeth clenched, my body rigid.
Finally, she moved onto my back – for about a minute. No point wasting time on my back when my ear lobes are clearly calling to her. Ear lobes? Really?
Then she started prodding my eyebrows and forehead, over and over again, prod prod prod went her stubbly little fingers. I’m thankful for my strong skull as there were times I thought she was trying to poke through my temples and unite her fingers inside my head.
She moves on to my arms. Write, to elbow, to armpit. All ticklish.
Finally it’s over and I’m more tense than before it began, only now I’m covered in oil and my temples hurt.
Still, it didn’t stop me going to another one when we got to Thailand.
This time it was a man doing me. Strong hands, no tickles. Much better. And he didn’t even touch my knees.
But then we made the almighty mistake of enjoying it so much we ordered another half an hour. Well, I don’t think he knew what to do with himself.
So he went for my temples. And my earlobes. And all his soothing, relaxing moves of the last hour were undone, prod by unnecessary prod.
A word to all masseuses out there – WHY? Why I ask you? Please refrain from touching the knee caps, temples and ear lobes ever again. It’s as necessary as mosquitoes and leaves me just as irate.
"The composition of my soul is made, too great for servile, avaricious trade.
When raving in the lunacy of ink, I catch my pen and publish what I think."
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