Today was a big day at My Small Town High School. We had Open House this evening from 4-7 p.m., when students have an opportunity see their tentative schedules and meet their tentative new teachers. The counseling staff left well before four p.m. to avoid the inevitable schedule change requests. I had an appointment with a very special man in my life.
My massage therapist.
I called Massage Envy this morning with one thing on my mind-- an appointment with Marc. I met Marc about a year ago, when I finished a training and had some extra time in the afternoon. On a whim I called the spa, and sure enough, there was an opening, with a male massage therapist named Marc. He was... good. Talkative without being too talkative, friendly, and great, strong, hands.
Over the past year, I've tried other massage therapists, but Marc is by far my favorite. For the past three weeks I've been working ten-hour days at minimum, and my lower back, neck, and sore shoulders were definitely in need of a bit of tender, loving care. Make that hard, deep tissue, pain.
Whenever I get a "relaxation" massage, I only leave the spa being made more aware of the knots caused by my workaholic lifestyle. Deep tissue, though, gets to the heart of the matter. Yes, it definitely hurts, but the key is to breathe through the pain, and when I leave, I feel... incredible. No more knots... at least not for another few weeks. When I came home this afternoon, Chuck took one look at me and said... Jen, you look SO relaxed.
That's when I told him about Marc.
This afternoon, when he had thoroughly worked my back, feet, and legs, Marc had me turn over to work my arms, neck, and scalp. I felt my feet touch the very end of the table.
Am I too far down?
No... you're perfect.
Thank-you! Ever the flirt, even with my massage therapist.
I am hopeless, but hey... he said I was... perfect.
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