Hurts so good
Since I can never experience the pain of childbirth, I decided to do the next best thing when I was in Thailand: I got a Thai massage.
It started so innocently. I was met by my masseuse, Wat (or as she pronounced it, Waaaaaaht), who fit every stereotype of Thai women: petite, delicate, charming, soft voice, beautiful (the staff at the hotel was so gorgeous that at one point Gretchen asked out of the blue "how does Thailand not win Miss Universe every year?")...but what you don't realise initially is that this stereotype masks a hidden reality: this delicate flower could easily snap your neck with just her thumb and forefinger. So it was with Wat.
After putting on some light pajamas (Thai massage doesn't use oils) and getting a nice foot soak, the fun began. I asked for medium strength, but I also added that I'm not very flexible--seriously, if I can bend down and touch more than my knees then that's pretty limber by my standards. I thought this was an important piece of information since Thai massage is sort of a combination of accupressure, Greco-Roman wrestling, yoga and pretzel-making. My stream of consciousness thoughts during what ensued went something like this:
By the time I was finished, I felt like I had finished a 15-round heavyweight fight followed by a rugby scrum. When I asked her if I had a lot of tension, she said maybe an oil massage would be better for my body, and that basically I had tension everywhere (that would have been nice to know before actually choosing the massage). It was relaxing in a certain way, but my whole body was sore for the next 48 hours. Note to self: next time you decide you deserve some pampering, choose something that doesn't leave you in more pain when you finish than when you start.
It started so innocently. I was met by my masseuse, Wat (or as she pronounced it, Waaaaaaht), who fit every stereotype of Thai women: petite, delicate, charming, soft voice, beautiful (the staff at the hotel was so gorgeous that at one point Gretchen asked out of the blue "how does Thailand not win Miss Universe every year?")...but what you don't realise initially is that this stereotype masks a hidden reality: this delicate flower could easily snap your neck with just her thumb and forefinger. So it was with Wat.
After putting on some light pajamas (Thai massage doesn't use oils) and getting a nice foot soak, the fun began. I asked for medium strength, but I also added that I'm not very flexible--seriously, if I can bend down and touch more than my knees then that's pretty limber by my standards. I thought this was an important piece of information since Thai massage is sort of a combination of accupressure, Greco-Roman wrestling, yoga and pretzel-making. My stream of consciousness thoughts during what ensued went something like this:
"Hey, this feels pretty nice and OW OW OW OW OW!!!"..."I wonder if my medical insurance will cover the flight evacuation when she breaks my hip in its socket?"..."Wow, who knew I had nerve endings there?"..."AAAAAHHH! AAAAAHHH! STOP! AAAAHHH!"..."I really hope I don't have to fart"..."Are joints really supposed to bend like that?"..."NO NO NO NO OW OW OW OW!!!"..."I wonder if I'll be the first person ever to fit his whole head through this little face hole to try to escape the pain"...
By the time I was finished, I felt like I had finished a 15-round heavyweight fight followed by a rugby scrum. When I asked her if I had a lot of tension, she said maybe an oil massage would be better for my body, and that basically I had tension everywhere (that would have been nice to know before actually choosing the massage). It was relaxing in a certain way, but my whole body was sore for the next 48 hours. Note to self: next time you decide you deserve some pampering, choose something that doesn't leave you in more pain when you finish than when you start.
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