The Very Frisky Masseuse: Should I Press Charges? (Kidding. Sort of.)

Sit back and let me tell you the story of...

This weekend my husband had to stop by his office, so we all went. The boys wanted to see what his desk looked like and wanted to see some of his current projects. In his office, I found no picture of me. Actually, I take that back. There was one, but it was stuck in his desk drawer and it was five years old. What I did find was this slip of paper from a fortune cookie he received a while ago:

Something wonderful was about to happy.

A massage!

Several former co-workers, my MIL and I met up at a Chinese foot massage place on the other side of town later that day. Before I arrived, I expected that we were going to be sitting in pedicure-type chairs while our feet were ripped a new one.

I was wrong.

After passing through the door with this sign on it below, we were led to a room with reclined chair/beds. It was actually a very, very quiet atmosphere, as you might have gathered...

(I took this picture while the owner and the masseuse were watching me.)

I was happy to remain "silence".  I was looking forward to this massage. My mother-in-law went with me to meet up with my friends. Remaining silence and having a relaxing hour or so was something I had looked forward to all weekend.

Once I was put in my fully reclined chair and a towel was draped over my eyes, I waited and waited and waited for my Chinese foot massager to appear out of nowhere.  Not being one to disappoint, he dropped out of thin air like a ninja and began his magic.

Magic that made me break out in a silent giggle attack over and over again.  Sometimes he'd feel my body shake with a silent giggle and ask, "You ah-wigh?"

These were some of my thoughts while he was aggressively massaging my...

  • Hmmmm.  This is the farthest point away from my feet.
  • Thank God I don't have a soft spot on the top of my head anymore.
  • How much tip do I leave if I get decapitated?
  • He's massaging my ears.  For the love of an Orange Julius, he's rolling my ear cartilage around and around and around and around and...
  • He's still rolling around my ear cartilage.

  • Ouch, man.
  • Dude. Ouch.
  • Alright, he's trying to pull my arm off of my body. There must be a black market for arms. How am I going to high-five without arms?
  • Now he's twirling my arm around like a wind sock. It's swirling around and around. With all the energy he's creating, he could power an entire Lilliputian town. I'd be Gulliverette on the far side of the island creating energy for all of their tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny little lights.
  • Now he's pulling both of my arms above my head. This is how it would feel if I were drug somewhere against my will. (Note to self: Quit watching so much "I Survived".)

  • This is awesome. All of this for $20?? I swear I've been in this massage chair for at least the better part of a week.
  • Okey-dokey, dude. I think you just knicked my scapula.
  • Are discounts given if he takes off my scapula?

  • Homeboy is getting close to my crotch.
  • Homeboy is getting awfully close to my crotch.
  • Homeboy, did you just sort of touch my crotch?
  • Now Dude is lifting my legs high in the air aaaaaaannnnnnd letting them fall. And letting them fall again onto the chair. Okay, he just did it again. PLOP! And again. PLOP! We've got a real Hulk Hoganfootmassager here.
  • Okay, now dude's crossing my legs in the air. Now he's crossing them the other way. Switching back. I'm synchronized swimming alone in a reclined chair.

  • Oh, that feels nice, Mr. Massager Man. Thank you.
  • Okay, you're massaging between my toes now. That's fine. Just don't spend too much time doing tha- Whoa there, fella! You're about to saw of my little toe!
  • Hee, hee, hee. That kind of tickl- Okay, ouch.

With a real abrupt slap to the feet, he lets me know he's done with the massage. I thank him  in my best Chinese ("Thank you") and proceed to put on my shoes and get my purse. That's when he motions to a section of the room behind a black curtain. The lady masseuse in the room nods towards it and smiles.

So, I slowly walk in that direction anticipating finding a private check-out area. Instead, I find a long massage table with the Chinese dude close behind motioning me to lie down face first into that little face hole thingy you find on massage tables.

Huh? Haven't I already been here close to a year now? Doesn't this only cost $20? Did I sneeze earlier and it came out sounding like, "I want an upgraded massage package" in Chinese?

So, I got in position face-down on the table, because I couldn't ask, "What in the heck am I doing behind a dark black curtain all alone with you in this foot massage parlor? And why do you have a pencil thin mustache?" in their language.

Shortly thereafter, these were my thoughts as he massaged my...

  • I feel like a human pizza crust.
  • He's really going after it.
  • Maybe I should move my hands. He's groin is getting awfully close to my han- AWWWW!  DANG IT!!! Did his jewels just brush my hands?!?
  • Ew, ew, ew!!!
  • Alright...his making his way dowwwwwn my back. Okayheisatmybutt.
  • Heisstillatmybuttquittouchingmybutt.
  • Whew. He's returned to my back.
  • Nowheisbackatmybutt.
  • Heisreallykneadingthebutt.
  • Alright, he's massaging my back again. This is good. OH, hold on, shirt is being moved up and...he just unlatched my bra strap.
  • He unlatched my bra strap.
  • He unlatched my bra strap.
  • He unlatched my bra strap.
  • He knows how to unlatch bra straps really, really fast.
  • This skinny Chinese dude with the pencil-thin mustache is getting way too close to the front. He's getting close.
  • And he's returned to the back.
  • Where are my friends?
  • Where are my friends?
  • Will they hear me if I yell?
  • Am I about to be assaulted in a Chinese FOOT massage parlor??
  • I'm memorizing Dude's shoes in case I have to identify him to police.
  • He's re-attached my bra strap.
  • Hallelujah.
  • Still massaging the back like a madman.
  • The madman is now on the table. Dude is ON the table.
  • Are you standing on my back? It feels like you're standing on my back.
  • Okay, no...just some really, really vigorous pushing.
  • Thank God. He jumped off the table.
  • He's scooting around the side of the table.
  • Was that something kind of ballsy that just brushed my hands again? 

Then, just like that, he was finished. I got the sign that I was okay to stand up and put my shoes back on. I sort of smiled as I rushed out of the room with my hair all in disarray, sort of like my mother-in-law's:

    I don't think I have ever been happier to see my friends ever. After paying, I might have exited the facility through the wall instead of the front door in my haste to get far away from Mr. Bra Unfastener.
    All in all, though, it was a pretty awesome massage for $20.  As much as you might think otherwise, I would totally go back there again. 

    Next time I'll just be sure to bring mace.

    And I'll request a woman.