When in doubt...Effleurage!

Here we are - Same place, same time, same women and yes, same dilemma! She forgot to write up her notes after the last massage!!! Whoever said change is the only constant didn't know much about us obviously. 'Right' says Somya as she scans her papers, with her best professional demeanour which like her towel technique could do with some work. 'What advice did you give?' she mutters to herself. 'I gave you good advice didn't I?' as we studiously avoid looking at each other. 'Apparently' I respond in my most encouraging voice. 'So, what advice did I give you?', and reflexively my eyes snap up to hers, and we're lost, engulfed by the giggles, punctuated by severely unladylike snorts. Luckily, I remember some of her spiel from the last time, and offer up dry brushing - a brief confabulation on why that was good advice, and it's duly recorded.

Since I'm a fast learner, and past experience tells me this will take a while yet, I scavenge for food and virtually inhale whatever I can lay my hands on (who said massage wasn't fattening?!) before tending to my pretty pink toes, when the rustling of papers and under breath muttering is rudely broken by a 'Fuck!' 'Now what?' I said, trying to colour within the lines. 'Did I find any fibrosis??' she demands? 'Huh? I thought you were looking for crystal deposit?' She dismisses my contribution with a negligent wave of her hand... personally, I don't think she knows what fibrosis' is/are?? She's back to muttering about thoracic, deltoids and trapezoids, and I'm now idly curious as to which came first.... Musculature or Geometry, and naturally we debate this for a bit. Math is older than medicine so Geometry beats Musculature (but then given our pediculosis revelation, I'm open to correction…). We return to the matter at hand - a flurry of questions... did I explain the treatment? did I do this.. that.. and the other.. and I just nod amiably till my brian registers the fact that my antennae are quivering with indignation... and I replay the last question... 'Did I deal with you Gluteus Maximus?'. 'Hang on!' I rudely interrupt her flow. 'You bloody well did not!' 'Not what?' she asks confused. 'Deal with my Glutinuous Maximus!' I yelp, most upset. If there's one thing I love, it's a butt massage, and nowhere in all our muscles groups study sessions had this come up as a thing to be inflicted upon a willing case study, and yet, here the questionnaire was asking if it had been dealt with?!?! This was about when the Freudian connotations of my tongue trip occurred to me, and let me tell you, the sound of hilarity warring with righteous anger sounds makes for some very interesting acoustics. 'You should bloody well read this stuff up before the massages, so you know what to look for when you're massaging...!' I rant. 'Abhi to paad rahi hoon na?!' she retorts. (loosely translated as a rude "I’m reading it now aren't I"). I overlook her lack of preparation with a benign eye - what she needs is a massage. I'm not being frivolous here - since eBay hasn't parted with it's massage table yet, we're still working on my bed, which means she's contorted over my body while torturing me, which isn't helping her back any. 'What about the pressure?' she demands. 'What about it?' 'Was it alright?' I shrug - it had been fine. Really. Just a different story that I had a stiff neck and shoulders following that and her right thumb was unable to bend.... She glares at me. Apparently a shrug is inadmissible as an answer. 'Yeah, sure. fine'. I'm rapidly losing interest in the inquisition. 'So what pressure was it?' she queries, her pencil poised. 'What?' 'Was it light, medium or hard?' she elaborates patiently. 'How the fuck should I know?! You're the one giving the massage!! What were you doing?' Honestly! Women, I tell you!!! 'I don't know!' she yells. 'How can you not?!' I yell back. 'What did it feel like?' she persists, her tone edging on accusatory. 'Pain and torture!' I shoot back, glaring at her. Then the silliness of it all overwhelms us, and we give up. Yep. R&R That's what we both need. Some serious R&R - relaxation and recovery!

We deliberate abandoning the homework, but somehow finish it, and then do a dry run of the massage. I don't need the book any more for the back... effleurage the whole back 3 times, then 3 circles - lumbar, thoracic, cervical, then effleurage again... you know the song. We move our operation to the bedroom, and do the whole routine – right from the welcome madam, you can leave your jewellery here…. (takes an awfully long time to unscrew 6 rings!), all very professional till we get to the dreaded ‘protect the clients modesty’ towel adventure, which completely unwomans us, causing Somya to lapse into in inelegant ‘Chaal. Laet ja..’ (a not very refined manner of saying drape yourself on the bloody bed). You really didn’t think we were going to be able to sustain the client relationship did you??? There is much work to be done in this arena…

The ceaseless creaking of my bed, like a comforting straightforward shag with little variation, makes me smile. Last session had it offering up erratic squeaks and groans as if were being put through some serious S&M. No bum balancing today, and the silence apart from a stray mutter from her and the gyrations of the bed is soothing, and I feel my body actually relax into the bed. It’s the quietest it’s ever been (despite what my downstairs neighbour might be thinking) and her hands are confident and sure as they skim and knead and effleurage over my legs, back and shoulders. I think she's got it – the most relaxing massage under those hands since we began this caper! Hallelujah!! Houston we have lift off.