This is Not About Relaxation

A Short Silly Self-Care Journey

My favorite masseuse is normally completely booked for at least a month, that’s how you know you’ve got a good one. 

Now before you think I’m flaunting a hoity-toity, self-care routine for the privileged—I am, but I would also like to point out that I go to Massage Envy. The McDonald’s of massage places.

My chosen franchise is in a small strip mall and connected to a Subway, which means no matter how hard they try, the entire place smells like a Subway. That saccharine stench of mediocre bread and meat is not the type of aromatherapy they advertise.

When you go to a Massage Envy, you start by sitting in a room where you’re not supposed to be on your phone. They say this is for relaxation but it’s actually so you can be freely inundated by the ads for their in-house facial services and products.

Then your masseuse comes to get you and walks you down a dark hallway to one of the many rooms, it’s brothel-esque even if you don’t think too hard about it.

Now, I carry my tension in my shoulders and neck. I’ve known this for years. Once a masseuse (that I don’t see anymore) described my back as “concrete.”  

I recently leveled up in my day job and it’s been pretty stressful, I won’t lie. So I booked a last-minute massage with my favorite masseuse recently because my shoulders were in danger of becoming permanently lodged under my ears.

She just touched my shoulders and said quietly: “Oh gosh.”

I used to think I was the kind of person who could never be comfortable getting a massage from a stranger, but listen, it’s been life-changing. I highly recommend it. But be prepared: finding a masseuse is a weird process. You’re allowed to shop around, but you have to get very close to second base to know if you even like their vibe.

Sometimes they talk too much. I had a masseuse once who didn’t stop talking the whole time. And she kept saying things she could tell about me based on my body. Like that I played sports in high school. Or that I’m right-handed. Or my social security number (a regrettable tattoo…). 

Once, and only once, I booked a massage with an older man. He touched my neck and said gruffly “Is this because of a computer thing?” It was like getting a massage from a grumpy grandad.

I personally like a masseuse who just treats me like a project. She doesn’t say anything to me the whole time and just makes the tension melt away. I personally go to the masseuse to get wrecked. Like I’m the Tin Man and I need an oil can.

I came out of my session the other day and another customer laughed at me and said I looked like a wet noodle. Which while I believe was fully accurate, is a weird thing to say to someone you don’t know.

Speaking of weird things people say to people: weird shit people have said to me is a large part of my newest one-person show.

(The smoothest Segway you’ve ever witnessed.)

I have 5 shows coming up in the KC Fringe this month!