Sunday, June 18, 2006

That's Why Rich People Look So Different...




I must say that I am very amused that it took me forever to find an image of a hot stone massage that had a brunette and not a blonde. However friend, that is besides the point. I had the BEST experience today getting my first massage. It was the most intimate beautiful experience I have ever had with a perfect stranger. haha. My boss Marshall came into the office a couple months ago with a gift card for a massage at the Four Seasons. I was really grateful, but I must admit I had no idea how great this was going to be until I experienced it.

So let me start at the beginning. This week was shit. I mean big crappy doo, stink in a pile, steaming shit. hahahaha. It was really tragic how bad it all was. I think I had just gotten to a point where I was too full of emotions to ingest anymore and I shut off emotionally to a marginal extent. Around Wednesday I decided it would be vital to my survival to book a massage for Saturday and use my gift card. So I did.

I walked into the Four Seasons admittedly nervous. I didn't know protocol. I mean, I didn't grow up in the type of family that had that kind of splurge. The people were sooo nice and explained everything to me. First they gave me a glass of "Cucumber Lemon Water" and it was so scrumptious and refreshing. Then I filled out this survey to basically let them know where my physical and emotional health was at. Admittedly my first response was to snicker at some of the questions and think of smart alec responses to them. But I put smart ass Karla away and brought out open-mind Karla. As I scribbled ratings on the various blanks, my head filled with images of people telling me "you should take better care of yourself Karla." and then I realized that I was there for that very reason.

Each person is given there own personal locker. In this locker you find a plush bathrobe, a plush towel and some slippers. After a mildly akward conversation about the role of underwear in this whole endeavor and letting the attendant know I changed my mind and would rather have a woman for my first massage (yes I am a nerd), I get nakie and then put on the various free accessories. I went to the steam room and it was pretty comical. I mean there I am trying to balance a towel and a magazine in a STEAM room. Which basically ended up with me a hot sweaty mess with a newly crinkled magazine. I'm such a mess on feet really. Common sense is just not my forte, never does it occur to me that paper (in the form of a magazine) could drench in a steam room. But there I was struggling to read the conservatives attack on George Clooney in the new Vanity Fair in the middle of a ton of steam. When I realize what a tard I was I left the steam room and put my robe back on. I lounged in the designated ladies waiting area. Sipping more of the yummy cucumber lemon water and chewing on a few dried apricots.

So this lady Erica who keeps calling me "Ms. Monterroso", which was highly uncomfortable for me, keeps reminding me that the experience is strictly for me and I should let her know when something hurts, tickles, etc. I for some reason choose this very moment to get very nervous about how my body will react. I think, what if I fart? What if I cry? So I giggle (which is customary for me when I am nervous) and I say "I know this sounds silly, but I'm afraid of crying" and she tells me "Oh thats normal, lots of people either cry or hysterically laugh, its called emotional release. It's really the whole point to being here. So don't worry." Oh Jesus.

I then lay face down breathing in this aromatherapy sheezy and proceed to remember what its like to feel my body. I mean really, really feel my body. Remember what places hurt and what places are tired. I am amazed at how I don't even consciously acknowledge the places where I hurt anymore. I just get used to it and I carry it. Can I tell you, a few times I start to tear and cry a little while she massages me. Not out of pain, but out of release. And then she takes a hot stone and places it on my heart and I literally start balling. I mean a deep cry. A sob trapped in years of "be strong Karla's" and "You can handle this" appeasements. I feel in my body the stories of the children and adults I have helped heal. I feel how tired I have been, how full of all of the emotional stress and pain of both my life experience and the experiences others have shared with me. I start saying things with what feels like little control of myconsciouss body. I say "I'm afraid of getting so full I can't help them." and "how can I be this tired?" and just as easily as I start she takes the stone away from my body and sets it on the top of my head, I quiet and regroup. Floored by what was beneath my surfaces. Relieved that I have room toreceivee and give more of myself to the world.

Ya'll now, I haven't been one to praise the chakras, chant the crystals or even light the incense. But today made me a believer in the connection between my body and my heart. Realizing now that when I abuse one, I abuse the other. They are sisters connected in a way that I have no rational explanation for. But I am grateful to the discovery. I sat there after the massage nurturing my heart feeling like a little girl who was playing grown up. I went to the steam room again, showered in a 5 nozzle palace of warm water and used all there assorted lotions and oils to get ready to leave.

I gotta say, I thought from the time I was a little girl that rich people had a certain polish to them. I realize now its the having the money to take care of yourself that gives them that sheen. haha. I mean to be serious, its amazing what paying attention to yourself does for you. I feel soooo much better and less tired then I have in so long. You know that feeling after a looong good deep cry? That is the kind of relief my body has felt all day. I'm a convert. Sign me up.

1 comment:

JeD said...

sigh..that's some "happy ending"