Like Kneading Cement

So yesterday I was treated to a free massage from my gorgeous chiropractor.  She has a new guy specialising in Oriental Massage at her clinic and she wanted some honest feedback – that’s where I come in.

I’m not big into massages.  My back is like a big slab of cement on a good day, so I find them more painful than childbirth (yes, seriously) and I generally hurt for days afterwards.  But who says no to free, right?

This was no ordinary massage.  Firstly, Eugine is (I think) from Jamaican decent, but has an incredibly thick French accent.  There’s something about a french accent that I find very erotic… so I was a bit concerned as to what this meant for me as I was about to get naked in a small room with this man…

To make matters worse (or better, depending on your point of view), he has THE softest hands EVER.  I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that it crossed my mind if it was wrong to be so excited about that.

Oriental massage is very different – I felt like a piece of dough after he pushed, kneaded, pummled, poked, stroked, tapped and … tortured.  After a week of working long nights and not enough sleep, too much time at a desk, I am understandably in a lot of pain after it.  My wheatbag is my closest friend at the moment.

But geez, it is worth it.


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