Friday, January 10, 2014

“Turn your wounds into wisdom.” ― Oprah Winfrey

I am going to do my best to take Ms. Winfrey’s advice, offered above.  If anyone, even someone you love dearly, suggests that a “deep tissue massage” will make you feel better, run for the hills.  Perhaps all deep tissue massages are not like the one that Karen talked me into having yesterday, but all she will say today are that the bruises will heal and I will feel much better tomorrow.  What I know, without a shadow of a doubt, is that what was done to me yesterday (by a small woman, no less) has been outlawed by the Geneva Convention.  Surgeons have hurt me less, and they were always sorry about the pain they caused.  This woman, this Queen of Mean, this Princess of Pain, thoroughly enjoyed finding every little knot, every muscle that was out of alignment and pouncing upon it with what I am sure were medieval torture devices and not just her bare hands.  I don’t know the name of the martial art she used, but she was at least a black belt.  The ultimate irony of all this was that I paid her to do it.  In the movies, people getting massages are smiling, having drinks, talking to their friends and seemingly really enjoying what is happening.  That’s what I thought I was going to get, but you really have to watch whenever the words “deep tissue” appear in the description of a massage.  They mean you have given your agreement to a specific kind of torture that most practitioners end up in The Hague defending themselves against.  I do not feel better today.  I may feel better tomorrow, but I think that will be because the pain will ultimately cease being a constant presence.  If you don’t like yourself very much, if you think that you deserve all the bad things that happen to you, then for heaven’s sake rush out and get one of these.  I’m not sure, but I think I confessed to Jimmy Hoffa’s murder—several times.
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