Wednesday, March 6, 2013

No Filter

I did something in yoga.  I overworked my lower back.  I have more knots in my lower back than a speedboat race!  No, wait: I have more knots in my lower back than at a boy scout convention.  (Thank you, I'll be here all week.)

I was twisting and turning and hanging all over our furniture trying to find a way to work out the knots.  My husband is gone.  He couldn't help.  I was wishing we had a hot tub.  Finally I went to get a massage.  I am the kind of guy that still likes to wear a t-shirt to the pool.  Somewhere deep down inside the fat kid of my youth lives; I see him in the mirror from time to time.  I am mostly shy, but  I lost my shyness because I needed relief.

I went to get a massage.

So I was laying face down in the nude getting a massage.  I told the guy about my pain and I focused him on my lower back.  He could feel the knots.  And then the stranger with his hands on my body said to me: "Wow, you've got a big beautiful ass."


I didn't know what to say.  I tensed up.  That statement didn't relax me.  It made me self conscious. All the sudden I flashed back to my sophomore year in high school when the new Principal instituted a shirts-must-be-tucked-in dress code; I was worried about my big booty without the camouflage of an untucked shirt.  Would my peers make fun of me?

"Wow, you've got a big beautiful ass."


I'm pretty sure he meant it as a compliment.  So I tried to clear my mind.

In the end, the massage was extremely helpful.  He ironed out my lower back.

But it's knotted up again today.

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