The Deep Tissue Massage Groupon

I have been meaning to write this blog for a while now, but only ever remember to while driving or a store (because that is where my ideas spring to life, aka- the places that make me mad.)  I just read another blog about "seizing the day", so I thought "what the hell?  today does sound good."  So here I am.  The idea is to share my random adventures of a person who has Hulk-like anger issues because looking back on what unfolded is always funny afterwards. 

So the back story, why the hell am I so angry?  Who knows.  I think I get it from my dad inherently, and then I was the youngest child, so I wasn't punished as much as my other siblings, aka- temper tuntrums were never met with negative reinforcement.  They just didn't have them in them by the third daughter.  And I don't deal emotionally and mentally with my problems.  There.  I am an angry basketcase.  Its out there.  But the good news is that I have a good sense of humor.  Otherwise life would probably really suck.  Because normally if we weren't laughing, we'd be crying.

Now to my first post: My Deep Tissue Massage Groupon.

I LOVE groupons.  I will buy at least 1 a week.  My favorite so far would probably have to be the one for accupuncture or the one for ice cream.  The one that got away that I really wish I had purchased: 1 hour flight lesson.  I coudl still kick myself for not getting that one.  I bought one for a 1 hour deep tissue massage a few weeks ago and had my appointment this weekend.  Now, I could release some of my tension- a new wave form of anger management!

I like massages, but the real draw is that my Rheumatologist told me about 2 years ago that I should be getting them at least once a month because of my "fibromyalgia".  (Because of stress and my anger problems.  At least it was better than the initial diagnosis of lupus.  Bitch, please, I have an awesome immune system, so I knew that wasn't the case.)  Also notice the bunny ears around fibromyalgia.  Yes, I do believe that in some cases it is a legitimate disease.  But I think they throw the term out way too loosely- much like they do with ADD these days.  There are people who really do have it, then people that use it as an excuse.  I hold stress in my back, but I don't think I need to join a support group at the YMCA for the disease.  Thus the bunny ears. 

Also, I think the doctor wanted to diagnose me with something out of spite.  The walls in his back-alley-abortion-clinic-esque office were really thin, so I'm pretty sure he heard my sister and I making fun of his extremely effiminite voice.  And I am sure he also noticed our side glances coupled with shit eating grins when he told us he was married and had kids.  I mean come on, just come out of the closet already.  Let's put it this way, I have never been to another MD that ever told me I should go to church.

Well, rheumatology man, guess what?!  Deep tissue massages are flipping expensive.  So I get one more like every 6 months.  Every time the masseuse tells me I need to come every month with wide, stern looking eyes.  At least I gave them a good workout, though.  My favorite is when they sigh because they realize the hour of gruelling elbow grease ahead of them with my back made of stealy tension.

I was really excited to use my Groupon.  I got there Saturday morning and was really excited.  It took me a few minutes to realize that this was the very place where I had my first ever massage in high school.  It was a graduation present form my mom.  That was a fun time- no one ever warns you that a massage consists of your whole body.  Soooo.... little 18 year old me didn't know that clean shaven legs would be a necessity.  Especially with the male masseuse.  Womp womp.

Well good news, past me.  I made an ass of myself once again at the fine salon/spa establishment a mer 8 years later.  Your embarassment was avenged.  They of course make you disrobe before your massage in your little room because a clothes-on massage would be really awkward and hard to do.  So I did so and folded my clothes neatly to show how oh-so-fancy I am and got under the covers face down.  The masseuse entered after a polite knock and got to work.  She unfolded the sheet down to my lower back, and it hit me.  I was in my birthday suit, which is normally a massage faux pas.  I'm not that modest- actually I spent the entire Saturday beforehand walking around in my towel in the hotel suite before my sister's wedding, and in front of 6 other females.  Whatever.  But completely bare, not my bag.  After all, I am from the south, and we do have some ounce of modesty and decency.  Ahem, Jersey Shore, I'm looking at you.  But behind your back so as not to offend.

I talked myself down from this little freak out, and bit my tongue to take my mind off the painful beating my upper back was enduring.  They might as well pull out a jackhammer for my shoulders.  Its ridiculously tight up there.  Still 3 days later, it is sore to the touch.

But then it was time for the leg massage.  Luckily clean shaven this time, the moving of the sheet to expose one leg at a time was causing a minor breakdown for me.  Why the hell did I forget to keep my undies on.  Stupid rookie mistake.  Once on the second leg, my masseuse finally told me to stop shuffling my other leg closer every time she tried to position the sheet. 

I apologized and told her why I was being so weird.  She said "you know you don't have to take them off."  And I died a little inside.  "Yes, I know.  I was just so excited about the massage, I forgot."  "Well, don't worry.  I didn't see anything.  And I don't want to." 

Womp womp.  Not that I want her to check me out, but awww.  I guess it is better than her saying "but I want to."  Oh, self consciousness.  So needless to say, my anger management outlet of getting a calming massage actually turned out to be a major crisis inducer.  Granted, I didn't get mad, but it definitely wasn't the relaxing getaway for which I was hoping.  Oh, well.  Better luck next time.