Friends, I don't want to live in a world where massage doesn't exist. A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a Groupon for a significantly discounted, hour long hot stone massage at a cute little spa in the artsy part of town. I scheduled a session with Frances, a massage therapist that came highly recommended by a friend. I believe her exact endorsement was, "Oh, Jenn. Frances is THE best. I would marry Frances." I get it now.
I rolled in for my 11:45 appointment at 11:47 (classy), to see the team of people I had hoped would have forgotten my name and face after my last appointment in December [it involved a brow waxing, a very kind Japanese esthetician in a white coat, a wailing infant with a fear of people in white coats and a dog toy]. They were all smiles and 'welcomes,' so I breathed a sigh of relief. Then I met Frances, I lovely young woman that, admittedly, I was fully expecting to be a lovely older woman. Imagine a woman with a gentle spirit and disposition, with colorful tattoos and piercings who greets her clients with prayer hands. She was kind and funny--I was so happy.
As I was preparing for our session, I realized that I hadn't had a massage since 2003, when I damaged myself in a failed attempt to play tennis. You have no idea how much I was looking forward to this--after having David, navigating med school life with Jon, stressful negotiations and other work-related agita, a new work-out regimen, I was ready to relax. And as I kicked my shoes off, I was literally giddy with excitement. The opposite of relaxing oneself.
And then... Oh and then... the session started.
Had I been live-blogging during the hour, it would have sounded something like this (thoughts italicized):
Frances: Ok Jennifer, is the room at a comfortable temperature for you?
Jenn: I was just thinking about that! It's wonderful, thank you.
Frances: [arranging Jenn's hair and placing warm stones on Jenn's face] Alright, now I just want you to know that your only responsibilities are to breathe [takes deep breath] and to turn over when I tell you. But don't beat yourself up if you have a hard time letting me move you around, some people just instinctively want to help, that's ok too."
Jenn: [thinks 'I will have no trouble following these instructions,' responds with a confident] Mhmm.
Frances: [continues working on Jenn's neck] And do let me know if the stones are too hot--I don't want to burn you, this is supposed to be relaxing.
Jenn: [thinks, 'If I had infinite resources to pay someone to do this, or brush my hair every day, I would make that happen.' Still balancing stones on face] Mhmmm.
[2 minutes pass]
Jenn: ['Wow, I didn't even realize that muscle hurt. Hmmm, this oil is really hot... wait, it's not the oil that's hot, it's the stones. Holy crap they're hot! Speak up! Wait, that actually feels really nice on newly realized sore muscles. And she's putting the stones away. This would make for a really funny live blog... Stop live blogging in your head! You're supposed to be relaxing! Breathe and turn, breath and turn!']
[More minutes pass, Frances uses heat as preparation for area to be massaged. Brilliant].
Jenn: [Oh my goodness. This is the greatest massage I've ever had. She is a gifted therapist with gifted hands. I bet she'd make a dynamite harpist. If she doesn't play an instrument, she should. What is wrong with you? Quiet your thoughts and relax--this snapshot of your thought life is sad!... Legs are such awkward limbs to massage, but she's totally making it work.]
[Time to turn. Nailed it.]
Jenn: [Oh back massage. This is what I have been dreaming about for the last two weeks. I love this, I don't want to leave this haven and go back out into the world with its light and noise and to-do lists. Wow, my scapulae are furious with me. My wingspan has no range of motion. This is what I get for trying to do push ups. But Frances is fixing me. She is a genius.]
[More minutes pass]
Jenn: [Bliss, thy name is back massa... Holy crap with the stones again! Fuego! Mumbles through face cradle] Em, Frances? Those stones are a little hot...
Frances: Oh I'm sorry! I think my hands are just used to them, we'll cool them off. Is that better?
Jenn: That's great, thanks. [Ahhhhhh, much better]
[More minutes pass]
Jenn: [This is brilliant. I don't even know what part of her is holding my shoulder right now...you know what, it doesn't matter, it feels amazing. If I believed in chakras, I bet mine would be open and happy with this. Frances, let's do this every week. Nay, every day. If only friendship were a currency...]
Frances: Alright sweet darling, I'm going to step outside and get you some water. Please take your time getting up, and when you're ready, I'll meet you out front.
Jenn: [Pitifully 'Noooo.' Jenn rises and floats off table on a rainbow and reassembles herself]
-Fin-
Needless to say, it was the best lunch hour I had ever taken. It was the best massage I've ever had. I'm talking, transcendental, restorative, ANGEL CHOIRS singing, super-relaxing experience.
It was scrumtrulescence.
I drove back home listening to Bogoroditse Devo (very relaxing), and thanked God for a beautiful start to my afternoon.
