We all love a good massage, right? And it if involves chocolate ~ heaven!
Unfortunately I didn’t get any of the above. It started innocently enough. Me, naked on a warmed bed covered with lightweight, heated blankets. Sounds great so far, what could possibly go wrong? After a long week, emotionally and physically, I was looking forward to my Swedish massage. An easy, non-invasive manipulation of my body that would leave me feeling like jello. Bliss.
The only problem was that I didn’t get a Heavenly Swedish Masseuse. Instead, I got the Sadistic Voodoo Masseuse. *Insert scary movie music here*
The first inkling my massage might not be all it promised came when the SVM started pressing down on me with her forearms. She kneaded my upper butt, telling me all of my brain’s nerves ended right there. Above my butt. I remember thinking that was interesting, I’d have to Google it when I got home. My brain ended in my butt, it was funny.
Then my ever-loving SVM says to me, “Your body is calling out for a deep tissue massage. You’ll get a bonus today.”
Deep tissue? That means pain. At that point, I should’ve run, naked and screaming, from the room.
But for some asinine reason I stayed.
For the next several minutes, five? Ten? I tried to think happy thoughts as she crushed my brain’s nerve endings with her forearms.
When the torture ended on my back, she says to me, “I’m going to pull your hair now.”
What? Pull my hair? Are you going to spank me, too? Did I sign up for the Fifty Shades massage by mistake? Pull my hair???
Yep. She did. Little tufts at a time that didn’t really hurt, but certainly didn’t feel relaxing and jello inducing.
Thankfully, this only lasted a minute before she moved down my body.
Thinking there wasn’t possibly anything she could do to my legs, I took some deep breaths and relaxed into the bed.
After some relaxing massage on my legs, she took my foot in her hand. Warning! She started in on the scar from my foot surgery. I told her it hurt, to stop, but she thought she could ‘help’ move the scar tissue. I told her she could try, but my foot would be firmly planted in her esophagus in a matter of seconds.
Smart woman, she decided to move on. I was just starting to relax again when she said, “I’m going to stretch your leg then frog you.”
What the hell is FROG ME?
I’ve had many massages in my lifetime and I couldn’t recall ever being frogged. Would I like it? Would it hurt? Would I want to eat flies when she was finished. About this time I began wondering about her otherworldly beliefs. She’d mentioned several times how spiritual she was, how she called on ‘others’ to guide her hands, etc.
Apparently the spirits told her I needed to be frogged.
She pulled on my leg, stretching it out (which felt kind of good, actually), and then she bent it up so my heel touched my butt. You know, where my brain nerves ended. Good thing I work out, or this might have really hurt.
After stretching, she took my leg and bent it out to the side. Ah! Like a frog’s leg. Got it. Then she tried to shove my bent leg up under my arm pit.
Interesting. So that’s what frogging is. Not too bad, but not exactly relaxing.
As expected, I got to experience the joy of frogging on the other leg and then she told me to turn over.
Oh. My. Heck. What special kind of hell would she wreak on my front side? She better not even think about cowing me!
Apparently she’s a back girl, because my front got very little attention. She did a nice massage to my shoulders and chest, then tapped my face a few times. Yes, tapped it. Here’s where I started to think she was into voodoo magic because of the strange placement of her fingers and the muttering under her breath, which wasn’t terribly sweet, I might add.
When she headed on down to my feet, I was apprehensive and giddy at the same time. I adore a good foot massage. I settled in for an amazing experience. You can pull my hair and frog me all you want as long as you give good foot.
Prepare to be disappointed!
After a few foot twirls, she pulled on my legs again and then pressed my legs up in what can only be described as a sexual position from the Kama Sutra. Who knew I was so flexible?!
After spinning and manipulating both legs in ways best left in the bedroom, I thought I’d survived the punishment and would, in fact, escape mostly unscathed. Until she decided to give me another ‘bonus’.
She liked me so much she wanted to leave me with a bowel adjustment.
A freaking what?
I don’t know if I should laugh or cry at this point. She starts using those much too strong forearms on my stomach, pushing in a circular direction, telling me that what she’s doing is great for my digestion, but might give me diarrhea. Great! There goes my romantic night with the husband!
I didn’t think it could get worse until she says to me, “I found it. You’ve got a large feces right here. I’ll help it out.”
No dear god, please don’t!
Thankfully, my body ignored her ‘help’ until I got home. It took three pain meds and some chocolate chip cookies from my husband to relieve the pain left over from her ‘bonus’ massages. Lesson learned. If I ask for a Swedish and she wants Voodoo, I’m going to request another masseuse. Immediately!
Have you ever had an experience like this? Would you have stayed? Did you call and complain to the manager? What’s the wildest thing that’s ever happened to you naked (that wasn’t sexual)? Share with us, we need to know!