Sticks and stones

Here’s some advice: don’t ever get a Thai foot massage.

Whoa.

Just whoa.

As a birthday treat for myself, I booked a spa day for me and a friend this week. While I love getting facials regularly, I rarely go for massages. I can’t even deal with the pumice stone during a pedicure. The combination of being ticklish and wimpy is no good when you’re at the mercy of a masseuse. But I’m 29 now and going for a spa day sounded like the grown up, healthy, celebratory option.

I requested an Indian head massage and a foot massage, but I was open to any other treatments they recommended. My masseuse explained that she would somehow transition from the foot massage into the head massage, but she hadn’t quite thought it out yet. How about just stopping the massage on my feet and walking over to my head? I didn’t say what I was thinking because, hey, she’s the professional, all earthy and barefoot and zen-like. Let’s just go with it.

Just as I was relaxing into the foot massage, the masseuse took a stick and whacked the side of my foot. I stiffened as she continued to beat the hell out of my feet. She pulled my toes apart and pounded the insides of my toes. Then she wrapped her fingers around my toes and crushed each one with the end of the stick. It was extremely painful. (After telling my friend, Megan, about this, she said, “This sounds like that movie Hostel, only you were tortured at the spa. They should make a horror movie called Spa Day!” I might have a go at the screenplay when I finish this post.)

I heard the masseuse whisper, “Are you all right?”

“Um, yeah, I’m trying to be…uh, what’s going on down there?”

“The Thai foot massage isn’t for everyone,” she said, and then rattled off the benefits.

Toxin removal. Immune system boost. Stimulated lymphatic drainage. I can do this. I can do this.

Just as I was about to cry uncle, she started massaging my legs which felt quite nice until she moved to my hips. Is this still the foot massage? What’s happening?

Next thing I know she’s on the massage table behind me, pulling back my arms while she walks up my back with her bare feet. Is this still the foot massage?!

I started giggling. This is what I do in awkward situations.

The masseuse pulled my head back onto a pillow on her lap. This must be the head massage! But…really? This position? When I opened my eyes, her face was right above me. It all just seemed too intimate of a position combined with the candles and the music and the dim lighting. Plus she wasn’t really massaging my head. She seemed to be doing some healing hands Reiki malarkey. The only reason I stopped giggling was because I nearly fell asleep in her hands. It was actually working. It wasn’t the head massage I was expecting, but it was making me feel relaxed.

She scooted off the bed and when I opened my eyes, she handed me a glass of water.

“Now, before we move on,” she began and I tensed at what was coming next. “I just want to go over a few things I noticed when I was massaging your feet.”

I know, don’t say it. I really should have painted my toenails.

“As I was massaging your feet, I was also doing reflexology and I felt a sort of crackling tension here.”

She touched the ball of my foot and explained that it corresponds with the lungs. I told her I was recovering from bronchitis. Then she touched the skin beneath my little toe and said she sensed stress in my left shoulder. Not surprised. My handbag is always super heavy. C’mon, what else do you have for me?

“But where I feel the biggest blockage is here.”

She traced the outside of my foot, just under the ankle bone, and continued, “I’m not a doctor, so I can’t diagnose you, but…”

Oh my God, WHAT IS IT?!

“Are you trying for a baby?”

“No!” I said too quickly, too passionately, and then I let out a big laugh. A laugh so loud my friend later said she heard it from her treatment room down the hall.

“Well, it’s just that I sense blockages in your fallopian tubes. Like I said, I can’t diagnose you, but if you were trying to conceive and you were unsuccessful, you might find that reflexology can really help.”

She droned on about how her friend was going through IVF but after a reflexology session, she discovered the energy blockage in her right fallopian tube and after regular reflexology sessions, BOOM! Pregnant by the end of the year.

“But you’re not looking to conceive so…” she said, as she nudged me to lay back down.

Turns out the head massage she gave me wasn’t my head massage because after breaking the news about my tubes, she proceeded to give me the Indian head massage I requested. Only I couldn’t really relax because I was thinking about the possibility of blocked fallopian tubes. I couldn’t tell if this was something I should genuinely be concerned about or if this was just a ploy to get me to sign up for more treatments.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t grab my phone and start Googling for evidence to back up her theory, so I just laid there and flip-flopped between feeling worried and feeling irritated. What can I do? I can’t exactly go to the doctor with concerns about a possible energy blockage that could possibly affect the possibility of having a child if I want a child someday. And also, what the heck? This was my birthday spa day, for goodness sake! Don’t tell a woman this sort of thing at her birthday spa day!

—

After some extensive Googling and a few glasses of Prosecco, I decided not to worry about this. Not right now anyway. I’d rather laugh about it and I think that’s ok. For right now anyway.

—

Turns out Scott had the same masseuse when he went for a massage a few months ago. He said, “It was the first time someone’s ever massaged my stomach.”

And when I asked if that felt good, he said, “I don’t remember. I was trying so hard not to fart.”

We should probably look for a different spa.