“This is ridiculous. I have so much to do at home. Vince needs to do his 30 minutes of reading; Grace needs a bath. I could be using this $100 to pay the electric bill, for Christ’s sake.”
That right there? That’s the sweet sound of me relaxing.
As you can see, I’m very, very good at it.
I’ve heard it’s a woman thing, or a mom thing- this inability to shut out the world and shut off the mind. I personally think it’s just an adult thing- although I’m still baffled by the way my husband can fall asleep while sitting at the dinner table.
Anyway, this particular episode of “relaxation” was during my last massage appointment. Picture it- dim lights, soothing music, scented oils, warm lotion…and me:
“Ok, time to stretch out and rela- oh! Oh my God I almost kicked him. Do I say something? No. Don’t say anything. Just be still. Relax. Be still. Relax…I kind of have to pee. But I just peed…maybe I have a nervous bladder. A bladder that’s afraid of massages. That could be a cartoon.”
“I can’t believe I’m wasting so much money on this. I bought this stupid membership for Pat. I should’ve known he wouldn’t use it- I’m cancelling it. On my way out, I’m cancelling it. I’ll be firm. I won’t let them talk me into staying! Hehehe…it’s like that episode of Friends where Ross tries to quit the gym…”
“Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. I said Swedish, not deep tissuuuueeeouch!….hurts so good…..come on massage guy make it hurt-so-good…sometimes my neck don’t feel like it should….oh for the love of God.”
“I wonder why he massaged my feet so quickly…maybe he has a thing against chipped polish. Or maybe he hates feet. No. You can’t be a masseuse if you hate feet. Masseuse? Masseur? Massage person?”
“The kids were both healthy for Erin’s housewarming party, and Christmas Eve, AND Christmas Day. What a perfect Christmas…snow outside, Muppet Family Christmas on the TV, the kids opening their gifts with the dogs at their feet, Pat and I drinking our coffee out of our snowman mugs…that’s too perfect. They’re definitely going to be sick for New Year’s. I should just cancel dinner with my parents now and buy soup and ginger ale. We’ll all be puking this weekend. Puking with fevers…oh my GOD why can’t I shut off?! Massage. Massage. FOCUS on the MASSAGE. Everything is going to be alright….hmm, hmm, don’t worry…lalala…about a thing…’cause every little ting…every little ting? Every little thing. Ting?…Every little thing, gonna be alright…hmm hmmm…”
“I’m like a living Mrs. Dalloway. All stream of consciousness. I can’t shut it off. Oh well…I bet me and Virginia Wolfe would have gotten along. She would have liked that little walk-in closet I turned into a “Room of One’s Own” in high school…yeah, I was a dork. I am a dork. God, I’m a dork. I’m ok with it though.”
“Ok, turning over, turning over, careful the boobs don’t fall out to the siiiidessss…..yes! Both boobs are successfully smashed under me…are my underwear even? Ugh. I have ½ a muffin top going on.”
“Why are my shoulders crunching? Should shoulders sound like cornflakes??? Ok. Ok, you’re here to RELAX, Cathy. Shut up already and breathe…breathe….ooohhh the crunching is going to make me vomit….”
“Oh ok so I guess we’re just going for the glutes there, Mister. Don’t clench your butt cheeks. Don’t clench your butt cheeks.”
“Mmmmm….ok this is nice…I could totally fall asleep right-“
“Ok, that concludes our session.”
I cancelled the membership this morning. Honestly, all that relaxation is too damn stressful.