mas·sage

Mas sage, I’ve got a mas sage for ya. Don’t eat my sau sage.

Ok. That’s it. Don’t touch my sau sage, or I’ll rub and knead your muscles with my hands, but it won’t relieve tension!

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“I prefer to be true to myself, even at the hazard of incurring the ridicule of others.” ~ Frederick Douglass

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Thoughts, Tuesday, January 13th, 2026

Massage Day…

They show me to the room, close the curtain, and then ask if I’m ready. Like I can declothe instantly. What am I, superwoman? I’m too tight for my superpowers, that’s why I’m here.

I think they expect us to just walk in naked.

Excuse me for wearing a shirt on massage day.

I often apologize for it.

“I had no idea I’d be here right now; it’s all last-minute. It was ridiculous of me to come in like this. I see that now. Dang, I can’t believe I wore shoes today. Please forgive me!”

But I love getting a massage, almost more than anything.

Until the elbow segments. And the forearm smears. And the ending, when I become their punching bag. I think they look forward to that part, though. After 55 minutes of serving my needs, the last 5 are theirs to enjoy. By smacking and whacking every muscle in my body. Just decking the crap out of me. Including my head, which they fully wallop on. They really stick one on me. Box my ears. Probably getting me back for taking so long in the beginning.

Other than all of that, I love getting a massage.

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"Love yourself, fiercely and unconditionally." ~ Atticus

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