in my autumn

I should have known to stick to my silly, made-up-in-my-mind rules to life, one of them being: don't talk to me during a massage. I got a real massage, from a certified, non-setting-me-on-fire, technician last weekend for my birthday.

It started out with her asking me about the headband in my hair, as she's rubbing her fingers around my scalp, 'Where did I get it from?', 'Does it make your head hurt after a while?''Does it really keep your hair in place?'

I let out a little sigh from the hole in the middle of the headrest. Maybe if I answer her briefly, she'll catch on: 'Target... yes...no'.

Then she continued on; asking me about 'what I do, about my kids, their ages'; all while knuckling my back and oiling up my elbows. I guess that I must have opened the flood gates of communication instead of damning the entire conversation. Then I started thinking about how she does this for 8 or so hours a day, of course she wants someone to talk to. I started to feel sorry for her and well, obligated to continue on the conversation. Heck, it might even be fun.

Then she said I was old.

She was pinching my arm fat under my arms and stated: 'when I do this to younger customers they sometimes start to laugh, you aren't ticklish there'. The audible silence just got louder. So I said "Are you saying I'm old since I'm not laughing?" I laugh at this, she laughs with me and says nothing.

Then she said I was fat.

She was pushing on the what I thought was a knot behind my shoulder blade when she told me that I actually 'have a fatty deposit: see, it's sort-of fun; it rolls around a little'. Then I tell her 'I'm familiar with these so-called fatty deposits, that I have them all over my butt'. Again, I laugh while she proceeds to tell me about an old professor of hers that had a 'fatty deposit' on his left temple that he got removed, that I could do that too.

Surgical removal of all the 'fatty deposits' on my butt would leave me flat and a$$less.

Then she said I was lazy.

She was nearing the end of the massage,rubbing my fingers and rotating my arms around in a clockwork fashion. She says 'did you know that you don't have full motion of your arms?'

huh?

'It happens to people who sit at desks, at computers all day. Their bodies just get use to not being used correctly'. I remind her that I do not do either of these things (not really people, I'm not blogging all day).

So I guess, no more of this half-a$, arms half-way up in the air celebration when Wyatt hits the water in the toilet and not the floor - oh no, I'll be a full on, hands straight up, 'awesome job kiddo', kind of a mom, that I can fix.

Maybe.