Butt Jiggle Momentum

I just got the best massage. It was by Javier Bardem. Well, it was in my head anyway. In reality, I had my eyes closed from the time I laid down before the masseuse came into the room, and, by the time I opened them again, he was gone. But it was definitely a man with strong hands, he definitely worked hard on my knots, and he definitely got a little winded in the process. In my mind, Mr. Bardem was sweating over me, wanting nothing in return. Grossed out yet? Keep reading…

You know what I love? Like L-O-V-E? I love it when I don’t tell a masseuse anything about my troubles, and they find them on their own. There are tell tale signs that they know what you need when they strum those guitar strings deep inside between your neck and shoulder a few times and then roll up their sleeves and dig in without glossing over them. In addition to my tight shoulders and neck that I’m convinced plague every mother on the planet with the load we all carry, I also have arthritis in my lower spine and persistent pain up to about the middle of my back. Mr. Bardem got right in there using all facilities available to him: elbows, fingers, hands, the base of his hands… I floated between reality and a happy place. Well, I could have done without the karate chops to the butt. I can get that at home for free just lying in the middle of wherever the kids are playing. But still…

Speaking of butts, you know what else I love? I love it when the masseuse just gets ALL UP IN MY butt. There are places in the nooks and crannies that really get to the problem areas caused by my spine trouble, and Mr. Bardem did not disappoint. There were a few moments where I was a little concerned about the momentum caused by my butt jiggle, but I think Mr. Bardem found a use for that also. It was around this time that I heard the heavy breathing, but man did he have perseverance, I mean, just straight up tenacity. I was holding my breath and screaming all kinds of profanities in my head, and then… relief… I was a tough piece of steak that had survived the tenderizer, and now there were relaxing massages again, (and then some karate chops that I blocked out), and then more deep, soothing massages, and then… then it was over and he softly thanked me and told me to take my time. I felt myself pouting a little bit before fixing my face and sitting up.

I didn’t dare open my eyes before he left, because I didn’t want to mess up the image I had of my personal masseuse. Also, I stopped myself from asking him to cuddle me while I took a nap. Something told me that might make it weird. But I left feeling like what people must feel like when they say they want a cigarette…? Or maybe not since I’ve never actually wanted a cigarette… but I wanted something… oh yeah, I wanted Javier Bardem to cuddle me. But I would have settled for a nap. Instead, I made what seemed like a giddy, walk of shame across the parking lot, followed by a raw appreciation for the light drizzle and the warm breeze on my face along the way, and… hmmm I want something to eat. So, yeah, cigarettes aren’t my thing, but an afterwards-snack is right up my alley.

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