If you're into sadomasochism, the massage chairs at my gym are just the thing to provide you with a good time. This morning was the first time (ever) that I subjected myself to public humiliation, at least whilst at the gym and not including the time I almost lost my footing on the elliptical machine in what would have been a serious non-flattering face planter.
I expected it to be soft music, warm glow of candlelight soothing. You know the whole mental yoga picture of relaxing like a zen moment ought to be. And after the workout I put in this morning, I was ready to sit back, close my eyes and and check out of reality for a few blissful minutes.
Yelling out "Jesus!" regardless of it being Sunday, doesn't really work however unless you're in a church having one of those I've just been saved moments. And believe me, I haven't been saved. In the immortal words of Karen Carpenter, "We've only just begun..."
Still I didn't think having my spine nearly pulled liked a wishbone from my body was on my agenda for today. Beaten, bruised, pummeled and for the sake of continuity limping, I lifted myself from the chair, looked at my sister and meekly said, "Next time I think I'll just tan."
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