The Colorful Massage

This post was written by my delightfully witty sister, Michelle, who once upon a time had a blog. I'm sure you'll agree it's worth repeating...

I had a massage today at one of those fancy spas. I'm not that fancy of a person, so I found a few things about my experience comical. First, when you enter the room, they offer you your choice of lighting. There are three lamps on the wall - one green, one blue, one yellow. I am told I get to choose a color, or a combination. The colors have meanings, she says, as they induce certain feelings like calmness, relaxation, and clarity. OK, who doesn't need all of those things? Turn them all on!

Then I'm thinking, "Wait a minute... are there ones that can make me feel skinny, rich, and less self-conscious about my boob slipping out? I'll take those, instead." In real life, I had her shut the yellow one off. She probably thought I didn't want relaxation. Really, it was just too bright and I didn't want her to see my cellulite.

The next she has me do is lay down on my stomach with my face into the pillowy thing. (All that light choosing for nothing.) Since my eyes are now closed and buried in blackness, I see the truth is that she is the one getting calm from the blue aura; I should have charged her for that.

During the course of the hour-long massage, after flipping from my bad side to my bad side and having her touch all my exhausted pieces, I learned what feeling the colors really invoke:

BLUE induces sexual paranoia:
My logical mind knew she wasn't going to try and cop a feel, but what if she did? Every once in a while, I wondered if she might accidentally 'slip' and touch my junk. (And what if I liked it?)

GREEN induces a gassy/bloated feeling:
Of course I didn't have even one little fart all day, and then I'm lying there on my stomach and one wants to come out. I'm consumed with thoughts of the impending disaster. Has it happened to her before? Should I warn her? I really just needed to set it free so it didn't interfere with my 'relaxation.' Thankfully, I was able to hold it off and save it for later, but it was an agonizing peril.

YELLOW makes you hungry:
There was peaceful music playing... it sounded like harpist was in the woods, naked, perched on a rock near a stream. Beautiful music. During the last part of the massage, my stomach decided to join in, making rumbling sounds similar to a babbling brook, but not nearly as pleasant.

Now here is the really funny part. At the end of the massage, the lady is behind me, rubbing my scalp for the finishing touch. And I swear that she farted. She laughs out loud and says, "That was my stomach... we must be hungry!" BULL POOP - that was a fart! (I know one when I hear one.) So, not only does she steal my "relaxing, calming" colorful light ambiance, but she stole my fart! I held it in to be polite, and she just lets it rip without a care in the world. Nice.

Hope this finds you all relaxed (and gas-free.)

P.S. How could I forget?! And this is a total coincidence: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MICHELLE!!