Happy Endings?

One of the many perks of living in China is the inexpensive massage.  For about $15, you can have all of the kinks worked out on a weekly basis. There are so many kinds, it's an adventure to choose which one each week.  Today, I let Mr. Zheng decide where I went.

Prior to today's massage, I've ventured to a few different places.  In all places I've been, your clothes remain on, and no oil is used.  And watermelon and hot tea is complimentary.  Usually there is a television in the room, tuned to a Chinese nature channel...because watching eels and insects while having a massage is apparently soothing and relaxing.

In one place, a blind masseuse rubbed me down (or up, I guess) from foot to head, using his sense of touch to guide him along the way.  In another I've gone to, he did what Angie calls the "thumb massage".  He poked and pressed me repeatedly with his thumbs until I bruised.  In another foot massage place, they use long black (highly suspect!) vibrating tools on your calves after they knead them like dough.  In that same place, the masseuse shoved her knee into my back and spread my arms like Leo DeCaprio in that scene from Titanic.  Ironically, after all of the pain and torture, you feel great.  And you forget the torture and are ready to go back a week later.

So, today, Mr Zheng selected the place I went.  For 78 RMB (~$12), I was supposed to have a foot massage.   I was taken to a room where I was sat on a bed, not a chair...odd for a foot massage, but, ok, why not?...and was served my obligatory tea and watermelon.  Today's TV featured eels, so I turned to my e-reader for company.

The man began by scrubbing my feet with his hands for about 10 minutes.  When he finished, he advised me to lie back, and began oiling my feet.  Once they were oiled, he began the pressing.  He pressed each toe between his vice-like grip until I wanted to cry.  Then he did the thumbing on my soles.  Agony, but for a good cause!

The foot massage went on for another 60 minutes.  After one and a quarter hours, he finished with the feet.  So I thought.  As I sat up to get my shoes on, he came back with another bucket of water - presumably to wash off the oils. 

He then handed me a pair of hospital-like pajamas.  Shorts and a tee.  If I haven't mentioned yet, Chinese clothes don't really fit my body-type, and well, I wasn't really there for anything but a foot massage, so why was I getting undressed now that it was over?????

He left me pondering this for what he thought was an appropriate amount of time.  He came back, and I was still in my capris and top...holding his scrubs. When he realized I would not wear the PJs, he agreed to give me a massage while I wore my own clothes.  I had no idea this was part of the drill, but it must be a 2 for 1 sale! 

He had me lay on my back, and this is where it got a little funky.  He kneaded my outer thighs, my inner thighs and got a smidge too close to the hoo-hah for my expectations.  To quote Chandler Bing, there was definite... cupping.  I was on guard with my proverbial "no entry" sign and my (now very pliable and clean) foot at the ready.  At some point, this was supposed to be relaxing, right?!

After finishing with my front, he then flipped me over onto my stomach.  If I didn't have enough humiliation already, he began the treatment on my back by taking a hand to each butt cheek and smacking them 3 times.  HARD.  First the cupping, now he thinks he's Sir Mix-A-Lot!

It was too hard to control myself -  I was so mortified that I started to laugh until I snorted.  He responded by playing chiropractor, pressing me into the bed until my spine cracked.  He finished the rubdown on my back and told me to flip over again. 

Thinking my humiliation was over, I gladly obliged.  I had no dignity left, but at least I could leave without further eye-contact.  Oh no.  He wasn't through.  He then rolled my capris up until there was thigh skin pinched into each fold of the pants.  Again, I'm staring at the ceiling wondering what was next.  He left again, and came back with a bucket of mud.  He slathered my knees (KNEES!) with mud and covered them with a hot compress.  He then laid his body weight on top of them.  Five highly uncomfortable minutes later (after all, this man was inadvertently hitting every zone in reverse order!!), he got up and peeled the knee-mask off. 

He then unrolled my thighs and pronounced me done.  After only 2 hours and heaping amounts of humiliation.  He left to take his mud bucket away, and I got the hell out of there as fast as I could, with my hands protecting my behind the whole way.

Sadly, as this is the most action I've had in a while, I'll be back next week.