Saturday, 25 April 2015

Jess observes 24.04.15

1. I went for a massage today; I had a voucher for a local day spa that I have been meaning to cash in. I was really looking forward to it - it's like an acceptable grope fest and they make me feel wanted. 
2. I'm not great at relaxing. It makes me on edge. I checked in to the "day spa" (does this imply that some spas house you for longer periods? Like a month spa or year spa? Sounds lazy) and had the usual therapist conversation where we both pretend to have higher-than-average pitched voices and no local accent. She took my vouchers and told me to wait upstairs for someone called Lauren (masseuses are usually called Lauren or Jo). Cool beans. I sauntered through the building to the beauty bit and passed some rich folk who were spending the day lounging around in towels doing fuck all. 
3. Arrived at the beauty bit. It was called Experience d' Gino di Campo or something. It was empty, so I took this opportunity to mentally check-in with my bladder/bowels o verify that they were happy with being prodded for an hour. They were fine. I gasped at the array of beauty products and skin creams that were displayed in the beauty bit; they were very glossy and very expensive. I wondered if they worked. I'm always sceptical on high-end ranges; the packaging themselves looked costly and I'm unsure on the merits of a face cream (Whip de Visage) that was made with dirt (Nutri-Mud from the Homosapian Earth Fjord). 
4. Lauren rocked up and she also had a squeaky mouse voice. She was nice and told me to take all my clothes off. No foreplay or anything; she cut right to the chase. She told me that she would leave the room and I was to lay on this bed on my front with a towel pulled over the top of me. This is quite hard to do. I think I re-positioned several vital organs and a rib trying to do it. 
5. Lauren came back in and I said "I got a voucher for my birthday" before she had chance to ask the inevitable. The music came on - all Ching-Ching and wallows. She squirted something void into her hand and started feeling me up. It was nice. I said something wanky through a mouthful of tissue (my head was stuck through a paper-punched hole) like "Cor, that smells noice" (my regional dialect had returned with my emerged nakedness) and she said "Mmmmm". I shut up after that. 
6. She kept moving my shoulderblades to varying foreign parts of my body; I know some people dig that but it was a bit unpleasant. I felt like ping like a bin-lid slamming. 
7. I then remembered my pants. I had some really crap knickers on. All holey and grey and elastic fraying. I mentally chastised myself for not wearing those posh ones that Kevin bought me that actually only look nice when I am laying down. 
8. After about 15mins, I opened my eyes, still head-through-hole and started to make shape formations with the stuff that I can see on the floor. If I squinted my eyes a bit, the couch leg, a wire flex and the edge of the towel that was draped over me formed half a face. When squinting a bit more, the eye of the face closed and then opened again. I started a little mental game with this face to see, on opening my eyes suddenly, if face had eyes closed or open. This game got a bit boring after 30-secs or so, which was just as well, as Lauren started jigging the towel around and it felt like she has exposed one of my legs to earth. 
9. "wow!, said Lauren, you are *obviously*  very active and sporty. Your legs have total muscle definition. You must be an athlete of sorts! You are truly amazing!" Thankfully, I did actually anticipate this reaction to my Adonis stature so battered off her lesbian advances with grace and modesty.
10. that bit ^^ didn't happen. It was clearly not evident that I did any exercise at all and all that racing about has actually made no difference to my physique. 
11. This massage was making me feel guilty. This lady was working very hard to make me feel relaxed. It didn't feel right, like, a bit immoral and a piss-take. 
12. I left the day spa light-headed. It was a nice experience and she did a great job. I loved it. I passed the rich couple again in the reception, still mincing around in their towels. I might book the fella and I in. I might even wear my nice knickers.     

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