Converted

I would like to take a moment to humbly and shamefacedly apologize to anyone with whom I argued against massage therapy. I was so, so very wrong. And I'm torn between being embarrassed at being wrong and chagrined at not having accepted my potential wrongness earlier.

I will admit, the idea of going to a professional for a massage creeped me out for a long time. Paying someone to touch me felt unpleasantly similar to hiring a prostitute. Like I was too icky and gross for anyone to want to touch, so I'd have to pay someone else to do it. Plus, there was the thought that paying for massage was way too much conspicuous consumption - the kind of thing that the idle rich do, not former-poor-kids. There was no way that I could afford to waste money on something like that, when I could be putting it into a savings account or towards my student loans.

Except.... my job wrecks the hell out of my back and shoulders. And eventually my beloved husband got tired of watching me wince and cry and not be able to lift my right arm much above shoulder level, and managed to gently but firmly convince me to give it a try. And it was weird, and awkward, and I felt kind of ridiculous, but it helped. And the benefits lasted for a while, until it got bad again, and I let myself be wheedled into going back. And again, and again.

It still feels weird, in so many ways. It feels kind of obnoxious and arrogant and braggy and over-moneyed to talk about being the kind of person who has a massage therapist - or to be that kind of person. It feels strange and a wee bit inappropriate to have a person I'm not intimate with know my body and my reactions so thoroughly. But at the same time, it feels better than not being able to turn my head more than ten degrees in any direction.

So, thank you to everyone who told me it was perfectly fine, and I'm sorry I didn't listen to you sooner.....