It's Typical, Not Unusual

So today's story is another example of how things happen in my life.  Be forewarned - this may get a little gross ...

Anyhow, today I decided to get a massage.  I haven't gotten one in awhile, and decided that in keeping with trying to be a better me and take care of myself and treat myself well (blah, blah, blah), I would get one.  So I went in and met with Bob-bo (yeah, I am not saying his real name to protect the innocent).

A little backstory:  several years ago when I started getting massages, I went to Gigi (again, not her real name, but mainly because I don't remember it).  She noticed I had a bump or blackhead or something on my back and decided she would pop it/push it/whatever it to get it cleaned out.  I don't know if she did since the object of her efforts is between my shoulder blades, but I can say that she certainly tried.  She also talked the entire hour, but that's another story.  Anyhow, I left the massage with supposedly a cleaned out place on my back.

Only it wasn't so cleaned out, as it decided to have a party and get bigger.  Not cancer-like bigger, but lumpy zit/blackhead bigger (I warned you it was a little gross - and it's gonna get worse).  Over the years, massage people would comment on it.  Like one girl who said, "Do you know there's a lump on your back?"  Like I wasn't aware?  Some massagers (I know - masseuses) would ignore it, some would work around it, and some would just work over it.  Did I care?  Nope.  As long as I left feeling somewhat refreshed, I was okay (except for Mr. Jiggly Armpits - again, another story for another day). 

Okay, so fast forward to today.  Bob-bo (whom I've never had before) and I had our usual pre-massage chat and I told him that since I had been out of the massage loop for awhile, I just wanted to concentrate on my upper body today, which seems to be my most tight area (and I wasn't sure if my legs had been shaved in the last six months).  Anyhow, he said "Dandy," - well, maybe not - and left so I could disrobe and hop up on the table, face down (which will prove to be pivotal in this story - which, by the way, I have never figured out why some massager-euses prefer to start face up and some face down.  Should I solve this mystery one day, there shall be a blog post - now live in that anticipation!).

Anyhow, back to Bob-bo.  I get properly situated on the table (face down, remember), and he knocks and comes in and gets started.  I pretty quickly noticed that he was attending to my knot (just for reference, it was the size of a marble maybe).  I'm thinking maybe he was trying to determine what his course of action was going to be - ignore, work around, or work over.  And then his course of action became obvious - HE WAS GOING TO WORK IT OUT!!  Yes, people, Bob-bo was going to get every bit of that lumpy blob out - I guess through whatever pore (which I assume became larger) he could.

What did this entail?  A lot of pushing and prodding and PUSHING (think of popping a pimple and magnify the effort like 1 billion times).  At some point he wanted to show me what he was getting out, so I'd raise my head as he requested so I could see his finger nail.  Luckily I had on my contacts and cannot see anything close without my readers, so it was all a bit fuzzy, but I at least could see it was sort of gross.  He kept pushing and prodding and then once we became best friends, he talked about what he was doing.  And how it hit him in the eye but he would wash his face afterward.  And how he used 10 paper towels already.  And how this just made his day.  And how he is super-qualified to do this.  And how he felt bad that I've had to live with this for so many years.  And how he's getting all the infection out.  And how it's in the muscle but it also affects the nerves (which is probably why when he did some of the pushing and prodding, my elbow tingled).  And how I should probably used Glipity-gloopity cream (like I understood what the heck he was saying) that I could get at Whole Foods in the vitamin aisle to help with the bruising that was probably going to occur.

Anyhow, after around 50 minutes of this (yes, 50 minutes or so) the session was over and my marble was gone (for the most part).  Bob-bo apologized that I didn't get a massage, to which I replied that I got my money's worth to have my bumpiness removed.  Of course, as I recounted my story to the female members of the family, they were all horrified and are taking bets as to when the infection will REALLY begin (so in other words, I don't need your comments, but perhaps you can contact them and enter the infection bet).

So the point of this story is that while this may seem unusual to us, it's pretty typical of the way things happen in my life.  You go in for a massage and come out with no back bump.  You just have to find the good in the detours that come your way.  Just remind me of this when the infection starts ... 

Oh, and yes, I have another appointment with Bob-bo in the future.  Whatever ...

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Today was a great day because:  Everley's birthday party at Chucky Cheese; Charity/Molly party at Sonic; Lindley and Everley time; bump-busting with Bob-bo; Cracker Barrel dinner with Everley, Maribeth, Mathieu, and Steve