Kady and I were limping like fools all around Penang due to the 1,237 steps up and the 1,237 steps down to and from the Tiger Cave and my legs screamed as I stepped up or off of every curb. We hobbled up the steps to the massage place closest to our guesthouse. We perused the menu and I decided upon the full body oil massage. I knew this was risky business but I was feeling so carefree... this town had been so good to us.
The front room was clean enough and the man who appeared to be the owner or the manager seemed respectable enough. I left Kady in the main room as she had selected the foot and leg massage and was led into the back room.
I don't really know how to describe the pit that grew in my stomach as I stepped into that back room. There was a small TV in the corner and gathered around it were six or seven... "therapists"-
all of them horribly disfigured, deformed, or suffering from some level of disability. I wanted to turn on my heels and get the heck out of there but I was paralyzed... Aaaand having a pretty complex relationship with my discomfort.
My therapist was selected. She had a severe cranial deformity and was probably 4 foot 8. I was silent as I stumbled into the back room following her. She left me there and I stood in the center of the room wishing she had left me with some sort of instructions. As I surveyed my surroundings, my internal monologue was too cluttered to make out much more than "this is really happening". She came back and I asked should I remove everything? She said yes but then just stood there. I waited a couple moments but then finally turned my back and began undressing. My eyes glanced at the table I was about to spend an hour on- nothing but a ratty towel between me and the vinyl that had seen better days... perhaps fifty years ago.
The therapist eventually ducked behind the curtain and I lay down.
The massage went on for a couple minutes before I finally realized what was now so obvious.
I don't really know how to describe the pit that grew in my stomach as I stepped into that back room. There was a small TV in the corner and gathered around it were six or seven... "therapists"-
all of them horribly disfigured, deformed, or suffering from some level of disability. I wanted to turn on my heels and get the heck out of there but I was paralyzed... Aaaand having a pretty complex relationship with my discomfort.
My therapist was selected. She had a severe cranial deformity and was probably 4 foot 8. I was silent as I stumbled into the back room following her. She left me there and I stood in the center of the room wishing she had left me with some sort of instructions. As I surveyed my surroundings, my internal monologue was too cluttered to make out much more than "this is really happening". She came back and I asked should I remove everything? She said yes but then just stood there. I waited a couple moments but then finally turned my back and began undressing. My eyes glanced at the table I was about to spend an hour on- nothing but a ratty towel between me and the vinyl that had seen better days... perhaps fifty years ago.
The therapist eventually ducked behind the curtain and I lay down.
The massage went on for a couple minutes before I finally realized what was now so obvious.
She was blind.
Which might lead you to wonder:
How does a blind massage therapist keep track of the time as she delivers a 60 minute massage?
Why, she places a talking clock in between your legs and presses a button every four to seven minutes:
(Robo-voice:) two fif tee... seven
(six minutes later:) three... oh... three...
(five minutes later:) three... oh... eight...
The only thing more painful than the awkwardness of the sixty minutes was the mediocrity of the massage itself. So to make sure it was forever memorable, she makes me sit up for the last four minutes of the massage and pretty much just grabs my shoulders and jiggles them back and forth. I probably should have a little more dignity and not use the verb "jiggle" to describe this. But I don't know any better way to express how glad I was, at that moment, that she was blind.
The worst part is... how do you complain that a blind midget with a severe cranial deformity gave you a bad massage?
You can't. You're a terrible person. And no one wins.
Why, she places a talking clock in between your legs and presses a button every four to seven minutes:
(Robo-voice:) two fif tee... seven
(six minutes later:) three... oh... three...
(five minutes later:) three... oh... eight...
The only thing more painful than the awkwardness of the sixty minutes was the mediocrity of the massage itself. So to make sure it was forever memorable, she makes me sit up for the last four minutes of the massage and pretty much just grabs my shoulders and jiggles them back and forth. I probably should have a little more dignity and not use the verb "jiggle" to describe this. But I don't know any better way to express how glad I was, at that moment, that she was blind.
The worst part is... how do you complain that a blind midget with a severe cranial deformity gave you a bad massage?
You can't. You're a terrible person. And no one wins.
HOLY.CRAP.
ReplyDeleteYou are one of the funniest people, ever.
You have to find a way to publish some of these stories. Blind, deformed massage therapist, jiggling you?! You can't make this stuff up.
OH Summer... thank you for the good long laugh you just gave me. This is so horribly awfully hilarious! I kinda think this would only happen to you. Poor girl. Let me guess... was Kady's leg and foot massage amazing??
ReplyDeleteYes, Laurissa; it was.
ReplyDeleteshe probably doesn't even know she has a deformed head.
ReplyDelete