Expired Oksana

Today was my massage appointment. I feel like I must take my blog with me on it. Are you ready for a voyage into my crazy mind?

First: preparations. I waited to take a shower until right before. Have I shared my obsession with thinking that I smell? No one has ever said I smelled, but perhaps people are too kind. I shaved my legs...then I got to thinking that this is like a Big Date. Then I was worried about what to wear. I wore a tank top, a shirt over my tank top, shorts and jeans. That's a lot of layers, particularly on an August day, but I wanted to be ready for anything.

Get there. There's a Russian lady at the front desk. She's wearing a white coat, as if that makes her all ... I don't know what look she's trying to go for. Maybe the look of a beautician at Macy's? I check in, and then I pick up a trashy magazine. Gotta love trashy magazines.

I have only had 1 other professional massage in my life. It was by a mannish woman in her 50s, and it was a relaxation/touch massage. Lame. Gentle little circles. It was kind of like a 6 year old was giving you a massage. This one was going to be a deep tissue massage - hopefully a lot rougher. Gosh, that sounds like I'm some sort of masochist. I didn't want a painful massage, but I'd actually like a massage that kneads my muscles.

After about five minutes, the masseuse comes to get me. Oksana. When she first introduced herself, I immediately thought of Lillehammer. Remember Tonya and Nancy? Remember those embarrassments to America in 1994 (I never liked Nancy - she played the victim a little too much, and she never seemed all that nice)? Those two Americans were so busy trashing each other that Oksana kicked some American butt at the Olympics. I wonder where Oksana is now. She had a few run-ins with the law a while ago, but hopefully she cleaned up her act.

See, I digress, but my mind does that frequently. By now, masseuse Oksana has taken me into the massage room. Oksana isn't wearing much. Kinda like a black tank top with a short skirt. And no shoes.

May I say that I think it's weird to pay someone to touch you? I got this massage as a gift, but even so, it kinda makes me think I'm dirty somehow. I also have problems with getting a pedicure; it's just weird to pay someone to touch your feet. Please note that I don't have a problem with people providing the services for free (you can massage me anytime, dear husband). My problem is the whole paying in exchange for being touched. Me and my issues.

Oksana has a thick accent, and I think she tells me to get undressed and lay on the table. I think she also tells me to take off my bra and leave on my underwear. Or something like that.

Did you know that I'm a semi-nudist? It's actually that I'm perpetually hot, so if the inside temperature is above 65, clothes start coming off. When the inside temperature is above 75, clothes most certainly are off. When the inside temperature is above 85, I'm almost certainly lying in bed naked with the fan blowing on me. I actually don't have a problem with nudity, despite how prudish I must seem.

I followed her instructions and laid face down on the table. Yikes, the table was HOT! One of those heated things that I would love to have on cold winter nights, but being as it was August and 75-ish degrees in the room, I could do without. The blankets they use look thin, but they really are warm. Despite not wearing much, I'm close to dying of heat stroke before it even begins. Oh yeah, I forgot to say that the room was almost completely dark (makes getting undressed a challenge), and there was that fake-y calm music. Ocean waves with xylophone accompaniment.

Oksana breezes back in. She gets out the lotion and starts her thing. She says my back feels tense. Really? Me, tense? Yes, I'm completely and utterly tense. I actually tried to un-tense myself before arriving because I didn't want to be yelled at for being tense. Guess that didn't work!

What is a deep tissue massage like? Well, it's like having your back, neck, arms & legs rubbed. Not too hard, not too much pressure. I expected more pressure. I must be a masochist at heart. It was more pressure than the one other massage I had years and years ago. Probably 2/3 of the way into it I actually started relaxing. Early on I had to cough (I still have that smoker cough). I sound pretty bad, and I didn't want to cough around her, so I waited until she was more at my feet. Then when I coughed, she apologized, saying it must be the cloth. No, it's my stupid smoker cough that I've had for the past week.

She definitely devoted a lot of time to the back, which I liked because I carry a lot of tension in my back. And when she's working on that part, the blankets are down and I actually can feel some cool-ish air on me.

I started wondering if she had male clients. I wonder if any of those male clients made a move on her. I wondered if she ever gave any "special services." On this table? Ewwwww. See, the things I think about when I'm getting a massage. Then I think about what that's called. I seem to recall something about "happy endings." I'm not sure where I read about those massage parlors that give a little bit more. See, do not give me time to think. This is where my mind goes, and it's a very bad place.

2/3 of the way through she had me turn over. She massaged my neck while I was facing up, which was fine, except that she kept moving her heads up my scalp, and she got a ton of lotion in my hair. Lotion in the hair is awful. It makes it a greasy mess that makes you want to whack it all off. Seriously. Toward the end of the massage, she did some weird thing with my face. She put her hands on my forehead. No pressure, just her hands on my forehead. I didn't quite get that. Her hands were all lotion-y, and I hate people putting their hands on my face - much less their greasy hands.

She tells me that I'm supposed to drink lots of water afterward and that I'm not supposed to do something because I'll get nauseous. Eat, maybe? I think she said not to eat. While I get dressed, she gets me some water. Then comes my anxiety over the tip. I got the massage as a gift, but I still need to leave a tip. Do I give it to her, do I leave it in the room, do I give it to the receptionist? I don't know these things! I left the tip next to my empty water glass, but it feels kind of dirty to do that. Yes, I have hang-ups.

As I was getting dressed, since my eyes were adjusted to the dim light, I saw her massage license leaning up against the wall. It had her picture on it, and in the picture she had all this cleavage showing. Who gets their official picture taken with all that cleavage? Then I noticed the dates on the massage license. It was initially issued on 3/4/2010, and it expired 7/28/2010. So her license is expired, or she didn't put up her new one. Why was the license issued for such a short time frame? Why? Why? Why?

After I get dressed, I leave. As I'm leaving, I see a guy in the waiting area. Now he could be waiting for his wife, or he could be Oksana's next client. Would that be her client...or would that be her cliiiiiiient?

I can make everything be lascivious, can't I?