Wednesday, August 20, 2008

Massaged Back of Doom

This would be the second week in a row I paid for a massage. Why, you ask. Why would you go get a massage two weeks in a row? Isn't that expensive? Well! Let me tell you.

I am my own Discovery Channel. I had no idea it was possible to have that many knots and be quite so tight along the back, neck, shoulders, and whatever those muscles are around the collar bone. It was insane. My massage therapist was like I don't know what you're doing but you need to stop doing it. And I quote, "This is bad."

I have three trigger points that I know of. What's a trigger point? It's a knot that is such a concentrated level of horribleness that pressing on it releases pain into all the surrounding areas. They're mega knots that take more than one session to relax into nothingness... and in my case, one trigger point was greatly reduced in the 2.5 total hours of massaging but has not totally gone away (that one was on the side of my neck), one trigger point didn't even "pop" (her term, not mine) until this second session (that one is under my right shoulder blade), and the third trigger point wasn't discovered until at least halfway through the second session. And man, let me tell you, that third one hurts like a bitch. It's on the back side of my armpit. I'm sore just thinking about it.

One curious thing she told me was that my entire right side was a swollen lump of knots, while the left side had a "rope" along my spine. That was where she told me to stop doing whatever it is I'm doing. She told me I was compensating for something, and I think I know what it is. I have horrible posture when I sit (I have a tendency to sit sideways) and I also carry my purse on only one shoulder. My posture also caused the massage agony that was the front part of my neck and upper pecks. Apparently my hunched foward / scrunched in shoulders sitting at the computer caused me some serious tension. It made me vow to do my stretches. Religiously. And I don't mean holiday religious. I mean like fanatic religious.

At that point in the massage I figured I had felt the worst of the worst of my tense muscles and knots. I was like sweet, she's moving on to something less painful.

I really should have known better.

She started on my arms... the corners of my armpits, the outside shoulder, and the forearms. Mother of God. I actually started protesting the pain at that point, and I have a pretty high tolerance for pain. I was making those stupid little girly "ow, ow, ow" noises. Especially on the forearms. I mean, all she did was run her fingers and the side of her arm up and down the top of my forearm, something that really shouldn't have hurt that bad, but that shit killed me. It killed me good.

And of course the massage therapist was fascinated beyond belief. She actually gave me a 1.5 hour massage when I was only supposed to get an hour, and she expressed some sorrow at having to stop. She was having fun discovering all my little knots. Though she did warn me to ice everything or I was going to hurt today and possibly bruise.

I iced. I'm still sore. But it feels ossim.

So... what was the point in telling you all of that?

Writers, I warn you now... do your stretches, make sure you have a good chair, work on your posture, and by God, go get yourself a massage every once in a while so you don't end up like me. Seriously. You do not want to be so tense that you become an educational experience for a veteran massage therapist.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go drink a gallon of water and stretch some soreness out of my muscles.

Quote of the day:

Foreman: Yeah, you're all about nurturing.
House: Do you need a hug?

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