Just another manic massage
Just another manic massage
I have had many massages in my adult life and I have ALWAYS felt the same way, ‘I’m too fat for this!’
I mean, that table….if that table could talk.
I had one recently, in Norwich. My back is starting to get bad now after carrying F cups around all day.
I was asked to follow the incredibly pregnant masseuse into a tiny room with THAT table that looks like a shiny piece of hard foam balancing on two toothpicks.
When I was left alone to undress, the dreaded fear loomed over me…I have to scramble on to this balancing beam with every ounce of chub I have on my body.
So firstly; you asses the bed, is it stable? If you push both hands down firmly, does it move?
Secondly; you dither a little until you nearly fall into a little dither dance. The dance of ‘how the fuck do I get on to this bloody table?’
Thirdly; your elbows gingerly try to take as much weight in the middle of the bed as possible …then you feel like the table will tip forward and it’ll snap you in two
Fourthly; you abandon that idea and reverse your butt on to the table, then your legs. You then twist your upper body as the table wobbles, trying to get round to your front.
It squeaks and groans under the flab and you grimace so much that your upper body tenses up even more than it had BEFORE you booked the damn massage.
Once you flop over to your front and use your elbows and knees to carefully position yourself evenly, you try to lower yourself down.
Next problem: BOOBIES!
Your great big tits are good to be used as a pillow for the cat, but when it comes to lying down on them and re…lax?? Nope. They suddenly become latex balloons that threaten to burst on any movement, but don’t!
After all this, your back is screaming out for the god damn massage!
The masseuse knocks on the door and asks if you’re ready – ummm, ‘yup’, you squeak.
She comes in and starts. Oh its wonderful.
All is forgotten, the toothpick table is forgiven.
She works down the arms and asks for them to be placed by my side…how?
My rolls are merely hanging off the sides of the table, where do my arms go?
She then starts to effleurage down my back from the top of the table; did I mention she was heavily pregnant? It was great, suddenly I am receiving an Indian head massage at the same time.
All in all, I love a massage but you can’t totally relax on the toothpick table.
To sum it up, your face is squished into that little hole, you don’t entirely fit on the table and you could fart at any moment. BUT, it is totally worth it when you leave feeling luxurious.
I am still in awe of someone who can give a brilliant massage, like my lady did (from iBar Beauty Salon in Norwich). I thank you x
Please do give the girls at iBar some love: http://www.i-bar-norwich.co.uk/
They are the cutest!
Love the body you own x
