With only two days left in our cruise, I had already decided that today I would have a "well-being" massage. Today and tomorrow are sea days, so I thought that a massage would be a nice relaxing way to finish up the cruise and arrive back at home relaxed and refreshed. Then came Boris.
Boris is a nice young man from from Russia or Germany or some former Soviet Union country. He had already given Marilyn a massage on Monday, so she mentioned that he was good with the pressure. When I met him today, he asked as to how much pressure I wanted. I said, "medium to hard," which he started with. He continued to ask me if I wanted it harder, to which I said, "yes," thinking that was a good thing. I can only liken it to that good thing that happens just before giving birth. You know it's going to hurt like the dickens, but the end result is worth it.
At times I thought he was trying to squeeze the fat out of my pores, or separate the knotted-up muscles in my back. Maybe both at the same time. At the end of my 50 minutes, though, I knew I had been massaged. It was the worst best thing ever.
I'm not sure if I will arrive home relaxed and refreshed - it all depends on the Advil. But I have been to Boris, and it was good.
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