At lunch today I decided to treat myself to a 20 minute neck and shoulder massage. I often walk past this place called ‘The Chinese Grand Palace of Pain’ (not it’s real name…..) and think it would be fun to duck in for a bit of relaxy me time. Caution was thrown, the wind caught it, so in I went.
My friend is a Bowen practitioner, which is where they just give the muscle a nudge along to relax at it’s own pace. If that is the hippy of the massage world then I just had its military cousin.
Holy mother of invention! I think I may have been assaulted. My muscles relaxed because they were too bloody scared not to. My masseur appeared to be a lovely smiling, petite lady, but for now we’re going to call her ‘The Smiling Assassin’
She led me to a booth type set up, two chairs, each with a plastic bucket in front of them, I assumed for my belongings, but am beginning to wonder if some clients may actually vomit from the pain, hence the requirement for a receptacle. A small curtain was closed, but I could still see reception, not as private as I would like, but it’s just shoulders and neck, no nudity.
It started gently enough, what felt like practised fingers started rubbing my shoulders and then slowly the rubbing turned into gouging, full on get under my shoulder blade gouging. My eyes popped open as I racked my brains wondering what I had done to offend this lady in the 30 seconds since we met.
Soon enough the fingers were abandoned for a particularly bony elbow. The Smiling Assassin only came up to my armpits, so I wondered how was she able to get the full weight of her body through her elbow into my shoulder?. I thought on it for a millisecond before the excruciating pain in my shoulder made little dots tingle in my eyes.
Oh ok, that’s not my muscle, I’m pretty sure you’ve pierced between my ribs. I wondered if I should say something, but this was not advertised as a relaxing massage or even a remedial one – perhaps this was a traditional Chinese massage that was all about business. The business of working out my actual pain threshold.
I soldiered on.
As I began to acclimatise to the leaning elbow the tack suddenly changed. She pinched me. More than once. I don’t mean a two finger pinch I mean a two hand pinch. All down my neck. Pinch, squeeze, let go. Pinch, squeeze, let go.
I didn’t want to cry but I think the pressure being placed on the base of my neck forced liquid out of my bulging tear ducts.
I’m thinking of my happy place at this point, which is anywhere but at the ‘Chinese Grand Palace of Pain’.
Pinch, squeeze, let go.
Focus on the scuff marks on the wall. Wow they’re pretty high for scuff marks, maybe the pain was too much for some people and they kicked their legs out to get up and run away. Or maybe she’s used the wall for leverage before……
Pinch, squeeze, let go.
What’s that noise? The receptionist got up, went in to the room next to us and pounded what sounded like a sack of flour for a minute, then glided back to her desk. She does this a few times, I feel confused.
Pinch squeeze, let go.
Can your skin just come off?
Pinch, squeeze, let go.
That unassuming calming piano elevator music seems oddly sardonic right now.
Pinch, squeeze, let go.
Oh ok we’re back on the elbow, but now it’s both and they’re coming at me like jack hammers.
The ‘sack of flour’ from next door leaves her massage room, she looks bemused, I try to give her a knowing look but in an effort to protect myself my shoulders have rolled forwards and my forehead is trying to touch my knees.
After one last lengthy body weight lean on my shoulder blades for good measure, it's finally over.
I stand up, slightly startled, arms out, eyes darting around. Is she coming at me?
The smiling assassin looked me up and down and said “you tired – you need more sleep. Sank you.”
I pay them for the pleasure. I even say thank you. I gather my self respect and walk out the door.
Outside I see a lady looking at the menu, checking her watch, a little smile coming across her face. I give her a look through my only open eye, shake my head just once and limp off with my right shoulder slightly lower than the left and my hair sticking out in all directions.
She scarpered.
I saved her.
