I have carpal tunnel. Or the beginnings of it. I had my first deep tissue massage yesterday and my pinched nerves in my back are crazy. And those tension balls – they made crackling noises that were heard ’round the room.
I loved it. The masseuse said that she was pushing at 100% but I wasn’t really reacting to the pain. I’m obviously an alien.
I realize how quick to anger I am. She said, “I tell people who work from home (as I do sometimes) to get a dog. That way you have to take a break.”
I started to seethe as she kept repeating as if it were a mantra, “Get a dog.”
I wanted to kick. One, I HATE DOGS. Okay, I don’t hate but they are too smelly and have big teeth. Don’t tell me that one day my dog won’t go with his natural wolf instincts and not bite my jugular in my sleep. Also I live in a large studio apartment. Large for me when I’m dancing, small for me when a dog is running around and realizing he can’t run. I hate waking up at 6am to walk something. I don’t want dog hair, the smelly breath and I don’t want the companionship. I’m a rabid cat person. It breaks my heart that there are homeless kitties in my backyard and I can’t take them in. I’m never home, my place is small. I couldn’t get a massage if I had a dog that I had to buy food for, get groomed, get a dog walker for, pay vet bills. How about “Get up from your computer every hour?” Don’t suggest that people do something borderline extravagant and life-style altering when they have carpal tunnel.
Within two seconds of touching me she said, “Whoah. Okay control freak!” I guess when told to relax, I felt very relaxed, but apparantly I was not. And she said my muscles were pushing back at her like we were fighting. She said, “Are you type A or what?”
I guess I am Type A. Hmm. I always thought Type A’s were very successful. I guess that judgement makes me further, a type A.