Seeking to soothe some of my anxiety, I sought out a massage this weekend. Between bad posture, stress, battling overgrown rose branches, and some trouble sleeping, I figured my poor back deserved it.
But unfortunately, I was scheduled with a massage therapist who took the "therapist" part of his job too seriously.
I know I have a lot of tension, inflammation, rigidity, etc. in my back, shoulders, and neck. But what I want out of a massage is not someone who will fix me in an hour, but someone who will just make me feel better for an hour.
Ramming an elbow into my glutes while manipulating my knee? Not making me feel better.
"Wow!" he exclaimed at one point. "The muscles in your neck are like piano wires, do you feel that?"
"Yes," I replied through gritted teeth, trying to ignore his index finger jammed into my neck.
Next time, I will make do with an ice-free Diet Coke and a puppy snuggle.