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For my birthday, my work bought me a voucher for a one hour foot massage. Let me just state that I LOVE foot massages. They are one of the most amazing things in the world and one of my main annoyances in life is that Jared has very little interest in massaging my feet. I mean, come on, I have beautiful feet. They’re dainty with shapely toes, they don’t smell and they’re just sitting there all lonely and unloved while we watch TV on the couch. And they want to be massaged, damn it! Isn’t that enough. Clearly not.

Anyway, that’s not the point of this post (or is it, Jared?). The point of this post is how glorious it was to sit back and have someone scrub my feet and calves then rub oil into them. It was soooo relaxing – right up until the point when she started poking my feet with what looked like a wooden stick. Not so relaxing then. Bordering on painful, actually, but I suppose that’s Thai massage for you. It can be unapologetically aggressive at times. And the girl doing the poking was so young and innocent looking. She noticed my discomfort but she just smiled and kept going. Sweet looking devil woman.

The massage ended with a scalp, neck and shoulder massage which was excruciating while it was happening but strangely amazing once finished. I put my shoes back on and skipped out of there a million times lighter and looser. This is definitely something I could get used to.

Image credit: Pulp Fiction via Katch

 

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