Irony Massage

The Irony Of It All

Yesterday, I went to an appointment that is sure to be the highlight of my week as it is every time I go. The Massage Therapist!

This girl is young, athletic, energetic and a powerhouse of strength. But I warned her that I'd be her challenge of the week. (I bet they just love to hear that, and the fact you've been on 6 double strength Tylenol a day for a week!)
Ironically, my sore back and shoulder muscles are due to sitting for hours at my computer in a "Chiropractically Unapproved" chair, typing such things as BLOGS!


As the therapist started to spread the oil and work her magic, she commented that my muscles felt really toned.
Wow! Was I proud! (A little surprised too, as I do absolutely nothing but walk for exercise. Well, maybe I was more fit than I'd thought.)


More irony to come.


Not long into the massage, she noted that she'd never felt my muscles so tight and with so many nodules.
There was my clue. At once, I put it together and was instantly deflated.
How pathetic! Toned up? What a cruel compliment!
I just had so many spasm nodules linked together all the way up my spine, that they presented just as if I were a regular buffed-up get-fit exercise fanatic!


And it seems that these toned-up in-shape knots gave plenty of resistance to her efforts. As she wiped the sweat off her brow with a towel and left the room, she looked back saying,"That was the toughest workout I've had all week. Brutal, in fact."

And then I heard her slowly dragging herself upstairs, each foot emphatically punctuating one step at a time, leaving me dejected and painfully wishing a huge crane could hook me on and lift me up off the table!


I need a new chair!

Mother of Invention, looking forward to my next massage!