Out of bounds

I was violated last night. Besides playing dead-weight-client and having one of my legs massaged expertly by the teacher, then the other leg bullied by a classmate, I'm pretty sure the classmate's fingers trespassed into my, ahem, Area 51. It occurred to me last night that these practice evenings, instead of being preceeded by a quick chapter review, would go much more smoothly after a stiff drink. Or two. Alas, as drinking while driving is still frowned upon, and there are no pubs along my route from the office to class, I will just have to suck it up, or (as I did last night) close my eyes and visit my happy place.

Also, a note to any of you out there booking your next massage appointment: Do not overlook the therapist's draping expertise. By that I mean thank your damn lucky stars that the therapist is not out to make an exhibitionist out of you. "Draping" is the art of arranging the top sheet around the client so as to only expose the body part being worked at that particular moment. I'm not sure why they started the draping lesson off with us fumbling around the legs and glutes with the sheet (hello, Amateur Hour), unless it is to show us a special kind of hell (and quite the how-do-you-do!) that involves laying on your stomach with your ass cheek(s) exposed again and again to a group of strangers for an hour (gritting your teeth to keep from yelling "my modesty has been compromised! My modesty! has been compromised!"). Perhaps
Miss IEP believes that a humbled student is a good student.

Also disturbing was the statement made about me having no calf (wait 'til we get to the chest, ba dum bum), a condition that was supposedly getting in the way of my partner's ability to administer the correct kneading technique. I admit, I'm still feeling a little defensive about that comment this morning. Especially since the comment was made by the teacher. I know I'm new to this, but I would think a big massage therapy no-no would be calling attention to a client's body, especially in a less-than-flattering manner, and blaming the client for the bad massage. Besides, let's look at this another way: You wouldn't tell someone their massage, administered by you (the professional!), sucked because their thighs were gargantuan trunks with too many fleshy bits covering the muscle you were attempting to work, right? I would think that would not only ruin your chance at a nice gratuity, but also quite possibly ruin that (non-returning) client's day. So why was it okay to blame my lack of calf for the inadequate kneading?

(Also? Lack of calf is incorrect, anyway. I don't work out on a semi-regular basis to banish muscles into oblivion. Not that I'm some Schwarzenegger-ette, but you get the idea. In fact, I'm kneading my gastrocnemius ('s right, I'm learning, I am!) right now, and that's not air getting pushed around under my hands.)

(How delightful! I've developed a complex I never knew was an option!)

Unfortunately, I don't think bringing the calf comment up to the teacher tonight is a good idea. Miss IEP doesn't seem the sympathetic type. Plus, it's a bit early on in the course to reveal my true neurotic self to the class. My ass may be everybody's business now, but they can keep their oily mitts off my neuroses.

2 comment:

Blogger Lisa said...

Your classes are great blogging material. heehee. I would have freaked out with the whole draping and exposing part.

12:19 AM  
Anonymous Pickle said...

I worked with a nurse one afternoon who gasped after I helped her move a patient, a 13 year old girl with horrible burns all over her body. The nurse said, "God, she's heavy."


6:32 PM  

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