Here’s the question: Is it better to get a bad massage rather than no massage at all?
Up until my trip to Thailand, I would have said any massage was wonderful. However, I soundly retract this statement now that I have had a Thai massage.
Most people who know me would expect that if I were to end up in a Thai prison, it would be for being a drug mule rather than murdering a small Thai lady while in a psychopathic rage.
I hope no one actually put money on this but I suspect a few of you have.
I spent a month in Thailand years ago and it was a wonderful experience, overall. The Thai people not only made me feel happy and welcome, they made me feel like a giant. And I’m only 5’4”.
When reading up on all the awesome things to experience in Thailand, the very specialized form of Thai massage was brought up time and again. Being the total spa whore I am, I was all “sign me up!”
So roughly mid-way through my trip I found myself on the floor of a small room, dressed in loose fitting clothes and lying on an uncomfortable bamboo mat.
A miniscule, smiling Thai woman came into the room and said something I did not understand. At the time I gathered she was asking me if I’ve ever had a Thai massage before but I think she was actually asking me if I was prepared to meet my maker.
I laid face down so couldn’t see what she was up to back there but felt my fight or flight response begin to kick in.
She climbed on top of my butt with her knees and started to do a sort of dog walk up my body balancing on her knees and pointy little elbows. OK, that’s uncomfortable but I’m here to experience this lovely culture so bring it.
Then, she sat and straddled my back, grabbed my ankles and started to bend my legs in all sorts of unnatural ways like I was Gumby…a very frightened and freaked out Gumby…psychologically curled into a fetal position…weeping.
We westerners are a tightly wound and stiff people and I’d like to keep it that way.
This went on for about an hour before she unceremoniously flipped me onto my back. For a person her size, she had freakish strength.
Figuring I was done, I began to get up but she pushed me back down, gazing at me with an angelic smile on her face. She was starting to look like The Joker. Heath Ledger joker, NOT friendly Cesar Romero joker.
There was more to come.
She climbed onto my stomach, patted it and said “baby?”
Are you fucking kidding me?? I know that compared to you, I am the Stay-Puft Marshmallow man but now I’m feeling fairly vulnerable.
First you beat the shit out of me and now you call me fat? I can get this kind of treatment just by getting in my time machine and going back to Jr. High.
When I said No, she giggled. Really, bitch?
My rage mounted as she proceeded to continue the abuse on the front of me. She went through and cracked every one of my fingers and toes. Contorted my limbs and pulled my ears.
At one point I felt like I was in a Three Stooges movie. All I needed was a poke in the eye and a “nyuk, nyuk, nyuk”.
This woman weighed only slightly more than a kindergartener but I was using all my will to not punch her in the throat. I am a pacifist by nature but the surge of violence that went through me was startling.
I’m not sure, but I think this might be what it feels like to take bath salts…maybe I was more prepared for the zombie apocalypse than I thought.
Two hours later I limped from the room feeling like I had narrowly escaped death at the hands of a sadistic Thai Lilliputian masseuse.
My enlightened friends told me I just needed to do it on a more continual basis to really feel the great benefits and that I should add in some hot yoga as well.
I smiled at them (my Heath Ledger joker smile, not the friendly Cesar Romero) and soundly flipped them all off.