So here I was last Friday (three days ago, in fact), face-down on a high table in the beached whale/ sleeping walrus position wearing bugger all but my pants and having a stranger kneading my back like dough and operating my limbs like levers. To her credit, the masseuse did a brilliant job and I really felt a difference by the end of it- it was the journey itself that was particularly... unique.
Last Saturday was the wedding of two very dear friends of mine, the bride to be being my best friend and general partner in mischief (all three of us met at archery club at university, which pretty much sets the scene), and the bride to be, Lucia, was quite keen on the idea of having a full body massage before the wedding: I had to agree it was absolutely the perfect excuse for it. I've never had a massage before- I've never been down with the idea of people getting their mitts on me- but I've always wanted to give it a go. Who doesn't want to be pampered and relaxed? So we met up on Friday having booked a session at a well-respected spa, and we were led to separate rooms.
Lucia later told me, not in these exact words but in the way I picture the scene, that she experienced the sort of massage you see on TV- firm but blissful, with soothing music and the sounds of nature floating in the fragrant air.
Here is what happened in my room.
First the masseuse, thankfully female, instructed me to strip down to my pants and lie face-down on the table between two sheets, and left the room to allow me to sort myself out. Standing in a strange room in nothing but your knickers is a little disconcerting, so I made every effort to be as quick as possible about this business.
Next I advanced to the table with grim determination. It was quite a bit higher than I expected- that is to say, I knew it would be high-ish, but being right next to it made me realise that my complete lack of grace, despite my smaller form, was going to make this next part tricky. So after a few attempts at lobbing myself at the table like a seal flopping heavily against a rock to get out of the sea, I managed to get myself in position and cover up.
The masseuse came back in once she'd established I was the next closest thing to being decent, and got me to put my face into what I can only describe as the facehole in the table, and to arrange my arms down my sides in the beached whale/ sleeping walrus position. She then switched on the stereo to some pleasant panpipe music, and got to work on my back.
It was awkward at first, but it only really took me ten minutes or so to get used to this unusual situation. Which is approximately when the dulcet tones of a young Aled Jones emerged from the stereo.
'We're walking in the air...'
My eyes snapped open in confusion, and I heard the masseuse clear her throat in a rather embarrassed way- I got the feeling that this had happened before. No matter, I thought, it isn't a bad song, just a bit strange with the sun beating down through the window in late June. I waited for the song to end and the panpipes to come back. But they never did.
'I'm dreaming of a white Christmas...'
'Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...'
'Simply having a wonderful Christmas time!'
On and on they went, on this hot summer's day, and I only managed to get through two songs before I was laughing out loud. 'Trust me, it'd be a lot worse without the music' said the masseuse, with a strange mixture of good humour and grimness. I tried to detach myself from the Christmas sountracks, and just concentrate of having my back turned to cotton wool.
Before turning to my legs, the masseuse gave one last almighty two-handed SMUSH to my back, like trying to close a particularly full suitcase, and I felt my face sink further into the facehole. It was fine though, I was still pretty comfortable. I only noticed what had happened when I was asked to flip over.
I blinked, feeling self-concious again. 'Really?' I actually asked out loud, nervous. It was alright though, the masseuse was holding a towel up so I could cover myself up. So I started to roll over.
My body went, but my face stayed where it was.
'Rocking around the Christmas tree...'
I was properly stuck. The masseuse was laughing as I literally had to place both my hands on either side of my head and tug furiously before my face freed itself with an almost cartoon-like 'pop'. I felt my forehead- sure enough there was a huge, deep groove running right across it. Barely containing her laughter, the masseuse assured me it'd go down eventually.
I never really got back to the relaxed state- and in the end the poor masseuse had to stick some cotton wool pads over my eyes because my wild eyes staring blankly at the ceiling must have freaked her out a bit- but eventually it was all done and I was left to my own devices again.
I rolled off the table, now a seal returning to the comfort of the sea, and gratefully put my clothes back on. Luckily I was just doing my last boot when another person burst in on me before hurriedly apologising and dodging back out again. I noticed that I felt like I was weightless- the masseuse really knew her stuff, then.
I wandered back to the seating area, slightly dazed, where I found my good friend in a state of zen.
'I feel like I'm floating', Lucia sighed contentedly. 'How was yours?'
'Er...' I began, as she peered quizically at my forehead.
~Fin~
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