Being a single gal of modest income in a stupidly expensive city, nothing chaps me more than not getting my money’s worth. You know, like shoes that break on the second wearing. Or meals that cost a fortune and still send you running for the fridge the minute you get home. Or the last several Sandra Bullock movies.
But the greatest offender on the list of Things That Waste My Hard Earned Cash? A namby-pamby massage.
In my world, a massage is an extravagance. It’s the kind of treat I only allow myself when I’ve been so on my game just I just deserve one (think of it as an oiled up gold star); when I’m starting to develop a Quasimodo humpback from too many hours in front of my computer with off-the-charts stress levels; or when I’m on vacation in some tropical paradise and my brain has lost all concept of money and suddenly a massage sounds like a very good use of next month’s grocery money. In that case, the decision is usually affected by fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them, and I can hardly be held responsible.
Last Friday, being neither on my game nor on vacation, I found myself on a massage table trying to unwind from the ball of stress I’d become over the past few weeks. Which wasn’t easy. My last massage was so meh that not only was my back still all knotted up, I was also suffering from buyer’s remorse (a brand of guilt I try never to entertain). As I lay there beneath the white sheet, eyes rolling back in my skull, it was all I could do not to anticipate being let down.
“Maybe she’ll be good,” I told myself.
She was good. So good that sometimes, I thought if she pressed any harder, my head was gonna pop! right off. I left the salon half-comatose.
This morning as I was getting out of the shower, I noticed a dark smudge on my reflection in the bathroom mirror. On closer inspection, it turned out to be four dark smudges. Four quarter-sized bruises between my shoulder blades. Ow! I said to the mirror as I pressed the tender black-and-blues. I turned back and forth, taking stock of the beating I’d received on the massage table. Then I smiled the smile of a very satisfied customer and got dressed for work.
I always did like it a little rough.
Okay, you HAVE to spill here. Where did you get it? Everytime I get a weak massage, I leave the place more tense than I was when I got there, because I’ve been laying there for an hour just steaming about the $100 I just wasted.
They have one Russian bath left in Chicago and it’s in my neigborhood. I’ve heard that if you like a good rough massage, and I do, it’s on point as long as you don’t have a problem with big, burly, old Russian dudes beating on you. Strangely, that raises no issue with me either. I think I’ll book an appointment.
That’s one heck of a massage! I equate that to the joy I get when, after weeks of torturing my feet in heels, my pedicurist goes to town with a pumice stone and that razor-blade thing.
Ahhh. Well deserved relaxation!
let’s add ben affleck movies to that list. he hasn’t been in a worthy flick since good will hunting. and why are you paying for massages? i thought that’s what bf’s are for!
Too funny Heather! And odd timing too… check out tomorrow’s post on my blog, I’m taking “not getting my money’s worth” to a whole new level.
Yes, Heather, please spill!!! This wedding planning is killing me — my shoulders are in the permanent position of “scrunched up to my ears” from the stress. (That can’t be healthy.)
Ahh massages…the only instance where yelling “Harder! Harder!” in semi-public is acceptable.
I’m still traumatized by my last massage experience – she did not speak English, she got up on the table and SAT on my legs, she slapped me (hard). I’m scarred for life.
I have no lewd comment to add to this…
You’re absolutely right. A good hard massage is worth its weight in gold. I’m very assertive about telling them “harder”– the third time they don’t press down hard enough, I grab their hand and press in until they get it. If they still don’t, I get up and leave, paying only the pro rata amount of time I was there. I figure, I’m paying for it, and when I booked, I specified that I wanted a “very firm” massage. If they still think that their wimpy “massage” is any good, then they can find a way to fill the time. Raah. End crank.
I hate weak massages, too. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl. And I have gotten over boyfriends suppose to be the source of massages because it is never innocent and is never an hour…
I have yet to get bruises from a massage – that is impressive. I may have to call for an appointment, today.
My last message was awful. I went in with a backache and left barely able to walk and had to go to the doctor.
YAY! I totally agree with you on how important is to get your money’s worht – those damn massages are NOT cheap. I’m glad you were satisfied.
rowr girl! Good for you for treating yourself!
Have you ever tried hot stones? Love ‘em, myself.
Sounds like she used cups on your back. Cupping will cause bruises, but it feels so good.
The benefit of living in a smaller city is I get an hour an a half for $75 and the woman is amazing. She doesn’t even mind that I moan,,,,ha. I book 2 months ahead just to stay on her book.
It’s sentences like that last one that keep me coming back to you, Fish. You’re like a drug. Now, I’m not gonna be able to sleep…..
Perfect.
Far too perfect.
You never fail to make me laugh.
Thank you.
I highly recommend sticking to Thai massages if you like it hard! It’s almost a combination of a massage and a visit to the chiropractor. I have never left a Thai massage thinking I hadn’t gotten my money’s worth. Those ladies may look small but they sure are strong!
Wow! I had a massage this weekend too and while it was good- it wasn’t great!
But I find that sitting on my Homedics Shiatsu massager a couple of nights a week makes all the difference in the world! It streches out the time in between those absolute-must-have professional massages and makes me much less grumpy during the week!
I just had a massage yesterday! It felt SO great as she was massaging that marble sized knot out of my back. It was so relaxing that I felt half asleep most of the day – even the grocery checkout lady commented that I looked like I needed a nap. Plus it was only $55 for an hour…bonus!
You can reach there? Never mind the message, who’s your Yoga instructor?
My one and only and very last massage that I will ever get, was at the Bliss Spa in SoHo. Now I’m not sure of all the Bliss Spas in the NY area and I’m a huge fan of their products, the massage? Not so much. It was horrendous and since I’m in the same predicament no money in an expensive city (DC) I look at my spa moments as the sporadic indulgence. But dude, that Bliss was such a non-event and I was so freaking bummed.
Amen, Sister!
have to admit that I am ever so slightly spoiled in that department – my sister is an RMT and gives quite possibly the best massages ever (and I am not saying this because she si my sister – everyone that goes to her says the same thing) but given that she is so good her practice crazy-busy, her family is sadly neglected
however, our extended benefits at work cover 100% 15 massages a year, so yeah!
Trek down to Brooklyn, you won’t be sorry. The best massage to ever grace my back was at Cavale Tonuzi Tantra Spa in Bay Ridge. GOOD. LORD. Your life will never be the same.
My first massage was this past week. It was excruciating, but I went in with neck pain and expected results. I still feel like the loser in an UFC fight but I think she did some good.
Yeah for rough work!
This 30 year-old shares many things in common with you including the name, dating experiences (stories that would make you laugh until you split, cry until you are laughing or make you feel like you are listening to a book on tape that should be a damn movie- an assessment made by close friends)and love for Pablo Neruda poetry, to name a few. However, I am a very private person who must continue to nod my head and laugh out loud as I make myself content reading your blog and not writing one myself. P.S. The best place for a massage is a physical therapy place. OH . . . MY . . . GOD. It’s like getting a new body . . . one that resembles pasta al dente (whole wheat of course). My first exposure to Pablo Neruda was “Saddest Poem.” His “Odes . . .” are great.
Unless it’s billed as SHIATSU, I don’t even waste my time. Swedish? that style of massage made me finally understand what frustrated guys in high school must have experienced – all promise, no payoff.
Hot stones? nice for a bit, but that ain’t working out the piano strings I get built up in my fibers.
Also, try a chiropractic realignment. You’ll feel like you’ve just dropped 5 lbs, and are swimming through water, you’ll be so fluid afterwards!
A couple of weeks ago I paid too much money for a “meh” massage whose limited results faded by the time I found the freeway again after leaving the massage parlor. I cringe at the distance that money would have gone towards the shopping I did that day…
But, oh, even with the bruises, that sounds like an extraordinary massage. How lovely!
It sounds like you’ve found one you like, you better stick with her. I don’t enjoy the experience myself, but it sounds like you need to get on her book and stay there!
Glad you enjoyed it!