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The hands on approach

Fat Mum Slim /

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I have a guilty pleasure, besides cake, and it’s getting massages. I don’t do them often {unless I do, but I do it on the down-low}, but when I do they’re impromptu and reactive. “Oh, my shoulder is frozen and it hurts to do anything…” Time to get a massage.

I have a little place that I like to go to. It’s cheap, and I can usually get a spot when I need it. I walk in, and they massage. Easy.

Except last week when I walked in and they couldn’t fit me in. I could have waited of course, but I hate to waste time and I like things immediately if not sooner, so I walked down the street to find another place.

There were two places near each other and I stood outside and deliberated for about 36 seconds. Mostly I just wanted to pick a place that didn’t look like it was a ‘sexy time’ massage place. Because I do have a friend that had someone cop a feel during a massage and I always fear the same might happen to me. Because I’m clearly VERY irresistible.

I picked the least sexy place and went in. They fitted me in immediately {tick!} and I was ready for my massage, stripped down to my underwear, lying on the table.

The small woman leaned over me and asked, “What pressure do you like?” My response was brief and swift, “Hard”.

I like a massage to feel like it’s doing something. I want to feel like knots are being removed and relaxation is returning to my body. I also thought she was small, and hard would be less than hard, if you know what I mean.

I was wrong.

The woman jumped up onto the bed and immediately straddled me. It was a first for me, and I was concerned. I wanted to sit up and ask, “What the heck is going on here?” But she was clearly sitting on me and it was impossible. So I lay there, my head poking through the hole in the table, with my eyes wide open.

And then she started. Before I knew it I had an elbow nestled in my butt crack, and by nestled I mean excruciatingly delved. I was in pain. Good pain for a while, until there came a point where I thought I might cry, but I didn’t want to appear weak so I let out a little exhale that signified I was dying.

“You OK?” she asked.

I let her know that she could maybe turn down the pressure a little. So she did. And by a little I mean, not much at all.

While I was lying there, with the lady straddling me, and my eyes wide open through the hole in the table… I noticed that more light filled the room, and that the curtains must have been open. I was trying to survive the elbows being dug into various parts of my body, and also wondering if the staff of the massage place had all gathered around to witness the fat lady {me!} being tortured. I wondered if they were videoing me for later viewing pleasure. I wondered a lot.

Towards to the end of my 30 minutes, a lady out the back kept breaking out into laughter for no apparent reason at all. Maybe she was watching back over my video. Or uploading it to YouTube.

Before long my time was up, and it was time to get dressed and meander out to make my payment and return to normal life. It hurt to put my handbag on, and my hair was a little bit Einstein-like, but I felt better. 

A little violated, but better.

  • Ha! I had to laugh so hard at this, my husband looked a bit disturbed as I interrupted his ‘Walking Dead’ binge watch evening. But this reminds me so much of our honeymoon. I thoroughly enjoyed the massage we got in a lovely resort in Java, but when my husband came out he looked as if he was violated too. He said he didn’t like the pressure nor the closeness to his private parts. I could’n help but laugh – it was so the opposite of what someone would expect!

  • Alena Lacanglacang

    I’m not one for a massage especially if it was someone I didn’t know. I would’ve been leary and suspicious of everything going on around me.

  • Haha I very occasionally will indulge (for example if someone gives me a gift voucher for my favourite place). I am a wuss. I like hard pressure, but I think ‘hard’ for me is like nothing to other people. I feel really embarrassingly wussy during it, but then after it is amazing! I think I do it just for the ‘after’ feeling. I don’t actually enjoy it while it’s happening!
    Funny story, there was a dodgy ‘parlour’ near here, masquerading as a legitimate place of business. It was the WORST kept secret in town, but apparently my MIL’s bestie had no idea. We were joking about it at my inlaws’ place after seeing one of their ads in the local newspaper and my MIL piped up that her friend went there and said she was horrified at how bad her back massage was – they were probably surprised to have an above board customer haha.

  • Oh my! You are incredibly kind and tolerant… I think my immediate reaction to her jumping on my back would have been to yell, “get the off me”! I see my physio every month because I have a bad back and carry all my tension in my neck and shoulders. She knows when I go quiet, it means I’ve lost the ability to speak and will usually ask me, “still breathing…?”

  • Now I really want a massage…but not from that person

  • Jenni from styling curvy

    ‘She straddled me and then she started’…I read ‘sharted’! ??

  • There is a fine line between pleasure and pain…not to mention being straddled. I think you need a safe word if you EVER go back there again ;). x

  • Amy Willis

    My husband and I honeymooned in Bora Bora. One day we decided to get a couples massage. After he lady finished massaging my back she told me to roll over, which I did. I heard my husband being asked the same thing. Once I had rolled over she started massaging my boobs (no joke. It’s a legit massage move over there. I however, did not know this). I was just lying there thinking ‘What are they doing to my husband?!). Once the massage was finished and we were getting dressed I told my husband, his response was: ‘Dammit, they put a towel over my eyes so I couldn’t see!’

@Fatmumslim