Sometimes you come across people whose writing you admire so much you would ACTUALLY POST IT ON YOUR BLOG. Thats love. And one of the people I look forward to reading regularly is Girl On The Contrary, who kindly agreed to write a post especially for me, and, well, you guys! Grab a coffee, sit back and enjoy!
It’s been a bit of a stressful few weeks, with all the parties and concerts and fun I’ve been having, so I decided to go get a massage. I’m not going to lie- I get massages pretty frequently. They feel nice and also while I’m getting them I imagine that while I’m getting my massage, I’m going to come up with the best book idea ever and make a bagillion dollars and then when I’m on Late Night With Jimmy Fallon and he asks me where I got the best book idea ever I will get to say “It just came to me while I was getting a massage.” Because I think a lot of people would think I was really cool after that.
The day of my massage they called to confirm my 2 hour (Yeah, that’s how I roll) massage with Nathan. Nathan? Nathan??!! Now, I know that when they asked me if I preferred a man or a woman, I said it didn’t matter. And really, it doesn’t. Men have very strong hands and not once has one ever been inappropriate while giving me a massage, but it changes my entire pre-massage plan. You see, the fact that I didn’t shave my legs that morning would not bother me if I knew a girl was giving me a massage. I would have no problem making a woman suffer my prickly stems in silence, but the moment I found out it was a guy giving me a massage, I had to leave work early so I could go home and shave my legs.
But it didn’t end there.
I also fretted and worried over my toenails. It’s been a while since my last pedicure so before I hopped in the shower to shave my legs, I took off my faded nail polish, clipped my toenails, and made sure the overall effect of my feet was pleasing. Why? I wish above all things I knew the answer to that question but all I can tell you is that when I thought a woman was giving me a massage, I didn’t care in the slightest. And actually, upon further reflection, I realize the room is really really dark and they probably can’t even see that my toenail polish is chipped and faded. Nevertheless, I freaked out about it a little bit.
When I finally got in the shower and pulled out the shaving cream (because obviously, I didn’t want razor burn either) IT EXPLODED IN MY FACE. Yeah. That happened. I had shaving cream all over my face, in my hair, up my nose, and in my ears, but not one little bit of it ended up on my legs. So, even though I hadn’t planned on washing my hair and face, I had to because it was covered in shaving cream, which quite honestly, burned a little too much for something that was supposed to be for sensitive skin. What a world!
My “quick” shower to just shave my legs ended up taking quite a bit longer than anticipated and almost made me late for the massage the entire thing was for in the first place. By the time I finally got there, I was out of breath, still not completely dry from the shower, and stressed out. I just want to emphasize that earlier in the day, before I found out my massage therapist was a guy, I was not in the slightest bit stressed out. My massage stressed me out. Why am I crazy like that? Again, I would trade all the gummy worms in my kingdom to know the answer to that question
So, my massage therapist comes to greet me in the waiting lounge and it’s a woman. Yeah. A WOMAN. Not some guy named Nathan who may or may not turn out to be the love of my life and therefore someone I needed to shave my legs for. Nope. It was a pleasant older woman who I’m 99% sure hasn’t shaved her legs since 1983.
The moral of this story? I am the only person in the world who could make getting a massage stressful. Also, I didn’t think of a brilliant book idea because I was still so wound up from all the pre-massage stress. If I’m not a published author in the next year, I will place the full blame on massages. I think that’s fair.