My buffing and polishing Monday reminded me I’d had it done once before, June 26, 2012 when we were in the Philippines for Husband’s work. This is a post I wrote while there:
When husband was told he needed to come to the Philippines for work, he was not happy. With all his food issues and flying issues it was sure to not be an exciting trip for him. His new boss in Texas called him and reassured him they would do everything to make sure it was a good experience for him. In the Philippines, he said, he had a guy who could get him "anything he wanted" nudge nudge wink wink. Husband called me from work right after and said "I think my boss just offered me a prostitute..." The next day husband called the boss and told him he'd go if I could go with him. No problem said the boss; "I've got a guy who can get you someone for single guys and someone for couples." In the weeks before the trip we joked about how I'd be getting my own prostitute... Fast forward to today: I signed myself up for a seaweed wrap. I've never had one and at 2,000.00 pisos or $25.00 it was too silly to pass up. I let the woman know I'd never had a wrap before. She had me lay face down on the bed and she draped all the sheets across me as she should, exposed one leg and then began by rubbing salt onto my legs. Unlike massages I've had before there was no background music but all was good. Right? Then my giggles started. And when she put her hand on my upper thigh to hold my butt cheek still while she did the salt thing to it I just about lost it. The giggles got worse when I rolled over and she gave me what amounts to a breast exam. With the salt. And even worse when my tummy decided to digest breakfast. Loudly. So no music, strange touching, tummy growls and the giggles. What do you think - does that amount to a happy ending...? Which brings us to my buffing and polishing Monday. My friend and I were taken to the ladies changing room and given our robes and bumpy sandals, which I assume are supposed to hit pressure points but always make me feel like I’m walking on Legos. We hurriedly changed into our robes and shuffled into the waiting room. Quick over-share here, when I get a massage, I wear underwear because I feel too naked without it. Not a bra, just underwear. I’d advised my friend who was getting a massage from a guy for the first time, to wear a pair for her massage as it might make her feel more comfortable. Funny, right? Because nothing can make you feel totally comfortable while you’re sitting in the waiting room, trying to keep your robe from gaping in the wrong place and showing the room the boobs that are unrestrained and sagging. And then our male masseuses came to get us, and it got worse – for me. My guy was young, like a twenty something fledgling of a masseuse, and he was very nervous. He led me into the wet room and proceeded to stutter through his introduction but I didn’t catch his name. Because I took one look at the wet table in the wet room, remembered then that we’d signed up for a body scrub and started laughing. I didn’t listen to an single earnest word he was saying, all I could think is that I’d told my friend to wear underwear to make herself more comfortable and now we were about to endure a body scrub that included large amount of showering and scrubbing and pretty underwear were not going to be a viable option. The Fledgling stopped talking and left the room so I could “take off, um, remove my robe and slip under the towel face up.” Still giggling, I disrobed as quickly as possible, slipping my underwear off and into the robe pocket with my glasses and sliding very un-glamorously under the towel. The towel that covered just the top of my body leaving the sides of me exposed, including my boobs, which no longer stay on top of my body when I’m lying down. My giggling continued. The Fledgling came in and chattered nervously his way through the set up of the scrub, where he would start and pressure and stuff like that. He was very nice. And very new and very anxious about the whole thing. I was still giggling. I couldn’t stop. He commenced scrubbing and I settled in a bit. It was nice and soothing to have someone else slough the dead skin off my arms and legs, carefully avoiding any girl part that might “make me feel uncomfortable” though I really think he meant made him feel uncomfortable. The paste he was something lime smelling with almond bits, very yummy smelling. It was really quite lovely and I even stopped giggling… until we came to the point I was to flip over onto my stomach. Then it got downright awkward again. Nervously, The Fledgling told me that he’d “advert my head like this” and he turned his head so far to the right it had to have hurt, “as you roll over onto your front.” his face flaming bright red. Easier said than done. I was lying upright on a towel that lay on top of a plastic sheet and I all my extremities were covered with a sticky paste. There was no way this could go smoothly. I awkwardly flipped, a three staged process; shuffle roll to hip, shift arm under me, roll to stomach, adjust boobs and relax. And my giggling was back in full force and The Fledgling was anxious again and did his best to reassure me he hadn’t seen anything. That babbling statement didn’t help my mirth just produced another wave of chuckling. I felt so sorry for him but I couldn’t stop but The Fledgling again assumed the rubbing position, rolling the towel down professionally the to arch of my butt so he could scrub my back. As awkward as this whole getting rubbed by a stranger thing is, it was wonderful. And I relaxed and I drifted off and just enjoyed it. And then, the wet part of the wet room started. The part where The Fledgling had to wash off all the scrub without dislodging a towel or getting himself wet. I went full into hysterics then. The room had a sort of boom arm with four showerheads on it, which he had to aim at my arms and legs to rinse off the paste. All went perfectly fine with me on my stomach with my back and legs exposed but then I had to do the flip, with a wet towel on a wet piece of plastic under me the towel I was lying on came with me as I attempted the roll, sliding off the plastic and taking me towards the edge of the table. The Fledgling panicked as I started rolling the wrong way. “No. No. The other way.” I adjusted, shifting onto the other hip. The towel and I were attached, the plastic and the towel were attached, The Fledgling was unable to help me move as he was standing with a clean towel “shielding your body from my view” and was being oh so careful to not touch me inappropriately or look at me, his neck at again in the painful right angle, his eyes squeezed closed, his cheeks on fire. It took me ages and many attempts but I managed to shuffle myself onto my back, the wet towel uncomfortably lying in a bunch under my back. With a exhale of breathe, The Fledgling lay the towel down on my front; head still averted so it took some adjusting, and then finished washing me off. Finally he informed me he had removed as much as he could and that he would step out of the room as I finished off the job and then he hurried out of the room to wait for me outside as I chuckled and snorted, cleaning off the rest of the paste, drying off and dressing in the robe. When I saw him outside, his face had settled into a slightly less red hue and he was able to make eye contact with my forehead, apparently still too traumatized to meet my eyes directly but the nervous shake was gone from his voice. Until I realized I needed my glasses to see, pulled them out of my pocket and my underwear came with them, dangling suggestively from the frames. The Fledgling startled, his eyes bulged, his face blushed red again as he squeaked out, “follow me” and hurried off down the hall to the massage room, me shuffling after him shoving undies back into my pocket and laughing too hard to see even with my glasses. We were forty-five minutes into a two-hour experience. It could only get better. Right?
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AuthorMy name is ej. I'm a girl. I say that because with the short hair and the short initials, folks aren't always sure. More brilliant insights to who I am in About me Archives
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