A few weeks back my youngest daughter won a Mother’s day competition that sent hubby and I off to a swanky hotel for the night. What a treat!
Now I don’t know about you, but whenever I get the chance to stay somewhere swankier than home, I always head off to find the spa facilities for a bit of self indulgence. Could it be I’m quite partial to wearing an oversized luxurious gown that was clearly made with a hulking rugby-player in mind, and of course the equally oversized slippers? Actually, side tracking for just a mo, aren’t those slippers the most stressful things on the planet? I’m always reduced to a unglamorous shuffle as my toes fight to keep them on and not send me flying into the tranquil garden’s trickling pond.
But back to the massage. Great, I thought as I headed off for my Chinese massage, lunch was light, and instead of the usual herbal tea and bite size muffins, I’m sure they’ll be bow-ties and Saki, and naturally silk kimonos instead of the regulation fluffy gowns. Hang on, are Kimono’s Japanese? Well whatever, you get the gist of my expectation.
I arrived at the door and knocked. I could hear some rattling going on and I was tempted to leave and check I had the correct room when the door was opened by a tiny little Chinese lady with a giant grin. “Hello,” she says beckoning me into what looked like her living room. “This my sister,” she continues, pointing to a young girl watching a movie on her laptop.
Now at this point I’m starting to get nervous. Where the heck is the massage table? As the door closed behind me I scan the room for feet behind a curtain, fully expecting the sisters to have a brother about to leap out and bundle me off to some White Slave Trade auction. Mind you, I was sure he’d have sent me back pretty quickly, rumour has it I can be a little difficult at times.
“You go through,” the little lady says, leading me into her massage room. “Take clothes off,” she instructs me. “You like Chinese food?”
Do I like Chinese food, I’m inwardly shrieking. I’m not here for a chow-mien, Missy. It’s a massage I want!
Eventually I end up on the massage table. “You like hard, soft massage?” she sweetly asks.
“Hard please, but softer on my legs,” I say, figuring this little lady won’t have an ounce of strength in her body. But boy was I wrong, she was like a demon on steroids. She endlessly pummelled me while telling me “Body no good, body no good.” You’re telling me body no good, I wanted to yell. I was in better shape before I came in here.
But that wasn’t it. She then leapt onto the massage table, climbed on top of me and proceeded to walk up my back with her knees. By this time I was spread-eagled on the table and gasping for my life. I have never experienced so much pain, not even childbirth comes close to it. Seriously, If I’d had clothes on I think I would have leapt up, knocked her to the ground and fled. Not even her sister could have caught me.
Eventually she reached her final spot on my body, my ears. Gripping them both she begins manipulating.“This sore?” she says, to which I barely mumble a yes. “I no need do body,” she continues, still gripping my lobes. “Ears tell me body no good.”
Note to self: Confucius say, you no like pain, then you no have Chinese massage.