Massage me this
I either have the softest skin and lowest pain threshold of anyone in the known universe (I so don’t) or something about me provokes masseuses to try and make me scream. (Yes fine I may well be a tad annoying at times but who isn’t) anyway maybe it’s not me, maybe they loathe their job or it’s that I’m a foreigner, an annoying interloper wandering round in tie dye and denim with fake dreadlocks (not really but I’m in the minority in that regard) whatever it is I’ve had enough, well…
I’m currently being tortured by a bored woman who can barely keep her focus on me because the empty street outside is so enthralling. She was called in and arrived somewhat reluctantly a good fifteen minutes after I was seated and sullenly proceeded to scrape my poor feet repeatedly with her nails, and that’s until she got the wooden implement of torture out to scrape, prod and poke them. I’ve had a foot massage or two before and am pretty sure they involved some massaging not just scraping, anyway…
JHubz is having the first of what promises to be two marathon tattoo sittings in which he is getting a dragon inked on his chest and torso (don’t tell his mum). So I have taken myself off to kill a few hours, amuse myself and get a relaxing (ahahahaha) foot massage. If I had never had a relaxing massage I would simply think that they did not exist here, but I have, plenty of them. It just seems this trip I’m plum out of luck. I’ve had two, that had they been my first, would have seen me never getting massaged ever again they were so incredibly painful, this one is a contender for third place.
Right about now you are probably wondering what is wrong with me. Well to be honest, I am too. Why am I even still sitting in this chair, wincing internally with every new scrape! I did think a lot about getting up and leaving during the first foot. But didn’t. The second one is so painful I took out my iPad to angrily write about it. That’ll teach her. What an idiot – me not her clearly. Why can’t I just say with a small smile ‘Oi you’re hurting me, gentler please’. I genuinely do not know. Her half inch long pinky fingernail is currently digging into my foot while she focuses on something else, but I sit here silent and unmoving, screaming inwardly. Have I been brought up to be too polite? Is it a British thing? I seem pretty good at complaining when justified in the UK. I could learn a thing or two from my feet who perform a small act of rebellion, jerking as if possessed, something which I apologise for whilst silently cheering them on “you go feet, run!”
Anyway, it’s over now. Next time, next time I’ll say something Xx
A few days later: I had a wonderful relaxing foot massage at The Spa Samui, so relaxing that I fell asleep and snored 😁