An Extra Towel

Birthdays are such a special time of the year. When you receive presents from people you dont expect and expect presents from people that you dont receive. Not that birthdays are all about the presents, but it's a good way to begin my story. 

This year I received a special present that I am so thankful for, not because of what I was given, but because of the story I am now able to tell and the lesson I will now be able teach to my future daughters.

I have had one massage, before this year. Freshman year boyfriend. Bless is married heart. That massage was nothing less than perfect. Full length fuzzy robe. Foot massage and peanuts to get me going. Running waterfall and Yanni playing in the background. A completely enclosed and private changing room, bathroom, waiting area, and massage room. I felt safe. At ease. and I felt completely comfortable removing my underpinnings for the reassurance I would be 1. fully covered by a clean crisp blankie and 2. rubbed down by an every so sweet Polynesian woman. 

The blanket was lifted as each limb was massaged. When completed, the blanket was then placed back over the newly rejuvenated and oiled up body part. This method proved successful for both the massager and massagee. I felt modestly naked. and I LOVED it. Needless to say the massage was perfect. I was a happy, beaming, oily, jellyfish of a woman. I couldn't have asked for more. 

So, this year, when I found out I was given ANOTHER massage for my birthday, I was ecstatic. A sense of nostalgia for that lavender scent and trickling water rushed over me. I was ecstatic because my high quality, top notch massage was all I knew. I had nothing but the highest expectations.  

You can imagine my apprehension as I walked into Square1Fitness. A gym the size of my bedroom, full of bald, greasy, oversized bicepted men. I should have guessed it was going to be like this when I called to schedule the appointment and the man answered..."Yo! dis is da fitness centa.  How big you wanna get today?" 

I filled out my "form" describing "what I wanted to get out of the massage today" as the axe-smelling men creeped in and out of the front door. As I was directed into the ....room...on top of the massage table was a...hand towel. 

"You can put your clothes on the chair, and put the towel over you and i'll be back in a second," said the small yoga practicing french man, who knew only broken english. 

"uugghmm....Im sorry..but put what towel over me?" said the timid, modest, naive, innocent little girl. (slight over-dramatization)

He was indeed talking about the small hand towel, that apparently was meant to cover my... unmentionable. 

I made the educated decision to leave my bottom parts on, leaving me only halfway....vulnerable. Anywho.  Without going into too much detail, I was unable to ever fully relax my mind, body, and conscience. Don't get me wrong, the massage was nice...and professional of course.  But I learned my lesson. A lesson to teach my daughters. 

Unexpected presents leave you with unexpected experiences. Never trust a massage from a sweat infested arena. and ALWAYS have an extra towel in your car.