Quicky Chinese massage that is….
Gone are the days I could just book myself in for an hour long “relaxation” massage. Gone are the days where a massage was purely for relaxation. Gone are the days of booking in for any sort of appointment, period.
I now treat myself, almost every Wednesday, to a Quicky! I work Wednesdays, twice a month I finish at 3.30pm, the other two Wednesdays, it’s a 5.30 finish. And I am trying very, very hard to just take 20 minutes after work to fly up to the local shopping centre and throw myself into a cheap, plastic lime green chair. I then wait for the compulsory napkin-like cloth to be placed over my shoulders, before being pummelled like bread dough. It’s not the most ideal of massages – but gees I love it!
Most times whilst undertaking this sometimes torturous pleasure, the lovely chinese masseuse manages to find the most ridiculously sore spots in my neck and shoulders. And after I cringe and groan in pain, they always kindly ask if I’m ok? Ahhhh, yep…..don’t talk, keep hurting me! It’s that fine line between pleasure and pain that is the best part.
The parts I do not enjoy? The constant banter between massage therapists – don’t know whether it’s Mandarin or Cantonese – either way, I do not understand. And I’m always curious to know what on earth they are talking about? I also don’t necessarily find their choices of music enjoyable. It’s usually some shady jazz CD, or Chinese mandolin. Not my preferences.
But you know what? I DON’T CARE! It’s my 20 minutes. By myself. For myself.
Does it matter that as soon as I’ve paid and farewelled my torturer, I spend the next fifteen minutes scrambling to the car, speeding to creche to pick up the youngest and then speeding to after school care to pick up Chelsea and Cadyn? Nope. I just start counting down the hours to my next quicky…..
How do you spend time by yourself, for yourself?