Massaging children

The first time I had to massage a kid, his mother was in the room with us watching.

“You have really strong legs.”  She tells me while I’m hunched over trying to rub down her son’s small body.  It was weird and sorta creepy.  Nothing was wrong with the boy.  He was in perfect health.  Your typical ordinary 10-year-old with not a care in the world except for having an odd peculiar mother. 

I’m not positive but I think there’s a law against massaging anyone of the opposite sex who’s under 17.  At least there should be a law.

The second time I gave a kid a massage was here at ME.  She was eight years old and completely adorable.  We were in the couples room next to her mother who was also getting massaged.  They were getting mani-pedi’s together afterwords.  The little girl was super cute, but still…….WTF?  And this wasn’t a once a year mother-daughter day, no.  They do this ALL THE TIME.

I have resentment issue’s when it comes to pampered children.  I had horrible scoliosis when I was a kid and did I get massaged?  Hell no.  It was so bad that the doctor almost forced me to wear a back-brace.  He said I was ‘crooked like a question mark.’ 

My parent’s didn’t force me to wear the brace or even consider alternative options.  They probably never heard of massage therapy unless someone was referring to a non-english speaking asian in a massage parlor.  The kind that lonely sailors frequent.

Anyway, I had to give an 11-year-old girl a massage yesterday.  I walk into the waiting room to fetch her and she was sitting there with her father who looked like a country club man.  It was 90 degree weather and he was still sporting the famous ‘sweater tied around the shoulders’ look and sitting with his legs femininely crossed.

I hadn’t even finished introducing myself before he flatly tells me, “I know you.”

I knew for sure he didn’t know me.  I have one of those faces that nearly everyone recognizes from somewhere and I doubt we hang in the same circle of friends.  I just nod, and say “oh”?

Then he proceeds in telling me how he know’s me.  I still have no idea what he’s talking about, but he’s insistent.  Telling me in a matter-of-fact dead pan sort of way.  How could I argue with the guy when I’m supposed to be rubbing down his pride and joy within the next few minutes?

Some people you can’t contradict, and I could tell that this guy hated being corrected.  So I inwardly rolled my eyes at him and kept my smile dumbly pasted to my face.

“She’s not shy, she gets massaged all the time.  She’s ok, just loosen her up a little.  Oh, and she’s sarcastic sometimes.”  Great, just great.  This little girl wasn’t as adorable as the 8-year-old, this one was affected by the spoil.

All she wanted was her back and feet done.  For one whole hour I had to massage a very small area of space.  I won’t lie.  It sucked, but what can you do.



Filed under journal, Massage therapy, rant

3 responses to “Massaging children

  1. Holly

    Did you know him?? Why does he think he knows you?

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