Monday, September 29, 2008


If you don't already know whether there's a clinic in your area, or haven't given it a go because "they're only students", I thoroughly recommend you avail yourself of any student massage clinic/s in your area.

Oh my God, where have they been all my life, these $15 p/hour havens each week?

Steve bit the bullet and tried them first. We figured, hey, at $15 for the hour it wouldn't matter if they just ... moved your back round a bit. Hell, I'd pay someone $15 to just put their hands flat on my back in various places and not apply pressure some days. You know that feeling? When you just want your back touched? For me, it eases tension just that little bit. And a tiny amount of manipulation (or a lot) is just icing on the cake.

So I started going too. And since April, we've both been enjoying these little respites. Now, one of the main benefits of student massages that I can see is that they are all trying their upmost to test out all their newly learned techniques. Ahhhh, that's my pretty, impresssss meeeeeeee. Sweet relief.

Not so surprisingly, every single solitary massage has been different, felt absolutely fantastic and I've never come away disappointed. Even the girl who was so nervous that her dear hands shook so much that my bottom lip almost quivered from her shaking was exceptional. I found the vibration of her hands and arms to be most transcendental.

Tonight, though, I got to thinking. As I lay there undertaking (doesn't it sound so resigned... "if I must help them reach their accreditation, I must"....) a relaxation massage *drooooool* I felt that sudden familiar urge. And don't any of you go telling me you've never had it when you're being massaged because I won't believe it's never happened to you. I speak of the sensation of air making its way through various passages, meandering through all the nooks and crannies, making its way to tapping on that final door.

The puff. The fluff. The fart.

It was lurking in the background and I kept it at bay for the first half of the massage. Every now and then, my body would tense, jerked out of its euphorically relaxed state to grip my butt cheeks shut. Sorry, guys. But it did. You KNOW the moment I speak of. Stop it... I know you do!

And then, the unthinkable happened. She let Fluffy of the chain. The masseuse! I think she thought I was asleep. And the slip was almost imperceptible. Pffffrrrrrrrrrt. A little, polite parp. Like the car horn of a god-fearing elderly lady who wants to respectfully advise you you're veering into her lane. "Excuuuuuuse meeeee, deary."

If I wasn't so relaxed, I would have let out a guffaw. But I didn't. I was so chilled that all I did was smile warmly. Hey, what would it hurt. She thought I was asleep, she was at my feet, I wasn't anywhere near the firing range.

It was all good.

How gracious am I?

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