25 September 2009

1 baby got back

thanks to the bike and life and whatever, i have recently been given the great gift of fairly fucking bad back pain. i'll admit, i brought this upon myself. i'm a strong, independent woman. of course i'd rather strain all the muscles in my body before requesting help lifting a bicycle up a flight of stairs. and, of course, having done so, i'd promptly forsake my yoga and run out to partake in multiple evenings of live music and the endless standing and toe-tapping that entails.

all of which brings us to a point where i- a girl who can no longer make it through an hour-long church service without hunching forward in an agony that has thrice been mistaken for spiritual fervor- am facing the pair of 9-hour plane rides in my future with a dread similar to that with which many approach the dentist.

but i'm a strong, independent woman. strong, independent women take control! they do something! they act! so, of course, i did what any strong, independent woman would do. i went out and got a massage.

when i called for an appointment, they didn't ask if i wanted a man or a woman. i don't know what i would have said if they had. in the end what i wound up with was a man, a 30-minute massage and a back that no longer feels like a dart board.

which is a very very lovely thing that nonetheless raises one frightful truth.

i am a 28-year-old single girl and i just paid a man to touch me.

1 comment:

Linda said...

i think the potential grossness/sadness lies in WHERE you pay the man to touch you..