Relaxation...I give up!

I am constantly trying new ways to rid myself of stress. It is not that I have a particularly stressful job or life, I just tend to keep a lot inside and eventually it does get to me. I tend to display the heightened stress by either being quiet, nervous, weepy, or snippy...and I am not a big fan of any of those traits.

So, tonight I was supposed to start a mat Pilate's class at a new studio. I was excited to have found a nice studio very near my house. The plan was to kill my core, limp home, hit the shower and then drop into bed. I don't usually associate pain with relaxation, nor I am a huge fan of exercise, but I was very ready for the quiet of a yoga/Pilate's studio; no loud music, annoying gossipy women, nor machines and people grunting. I thought and still do that yoga and Pilate's are a much needed addition to the cardio/weights drudgery I am currently doing.

Okay, so anyhoo...I found out that the class had been cancelled. My immediate reaction was to find solace in Ben & Jerry...but I decided, instead, to get my relaxation through a pedicure. The place I go near my house is not a peaceful softly lit spa, but both my feet and my mind needed the overhaul. It started out rather peaceful...

...until some crazy lady started yelling at the young woman painting her toes because she had not been told of the extra $3 charge for the flower. Since the young lady didn't actually speak much English she yelled at the room in general. And kept yelling, even when the owner tried to calm her. It was hard to get my chill on while the high-maintenance nightmare lady screamed. (I really wanted to hand her the $3 and tell her to shut up...but I was trying to be zen!)

Then I started to remember the last time I tried to get a decent foot massage...

Over Spring Break, my friend J. and I decided that these new spas we had seen popping up in the valley that tout 1hour long foot massages with reflexology would be just the thing we needed. They promised ultimate relaxation. We scheduled our appointment for 7:30 p.m. We walked into a very dark room, with huge lazy-boy like lounge chairs scattered around, soft new age music playing, and a little waterfall trickling in the back. Once my eyes adjusted I could see that there were a few customers in the chairs and they seemed to be asleep with people working on their feet. Exactly what I was looking for.

I no longer trust my eyes.

I sat in my assigned lazy-boy with J. next to me. I was given a bucket of warm water to soak my feet in ...which felt nice. I sighed...not knowing that would be the last moment of pleasure. A woman, looking a little too overjoyed, came bounding up to my chair. She made the chair lay back and kind of tucked me in with a few warm towels...also nice. She then began the longest hour of my life as she proceeded to poke holes through my skull with her evil pointy fingers. Apparently, my cringing face and gasps of terror were no real indicator of anything other than, "please do that again!" Actually, I think my reaction encouraged her to be even more creative. Did you know that you you can almost pry a skull cap off if you work really hard at one spot at the base of the skull midway between the spine and the ear? She wanted mine off of my head badly! I nearly hit her, but I kept remembering that the room was full of other people, sharing the quiet darkness with me...and they were not so wimpy. So, I kept lying there motionless. (except for the cringing face)

My torturer continued down my body...I will not bore you with the details, but it was all equally horrible...until the lower back. Now, I have had a major surgery, I have had Novocaine wear off mid-root canal, and I have fallen (okay, jumped) out of a hayloft onto the ground 30 ft below...but I have NEVER had such excruciating pain as that inflicted by this wretched, jolly woman! As J. later said, she seemed to be pressing the marrow out of my bones! I screamed into the pillow and was about to turn and punch her, when it was all over.

She gleefully handed me a cup of water, I looked at J. with a raised eyebrow. We hurriedly checked out and limped out the door. When we got outside, neither knowing of the other liked it or hated it, I said "did you hear me scream?" We both busted out laughing.

We hurried to J.'s car, turned on the seat warmers to relax our screaming muscles and began to compare stories. Apparently, we had suffered the same fate. We sat in the car for over an hour reliving, and howling with laughter. We also watched the other poor schmos coming out...gingerly...and laughed until we cried. I haven't laughed that hard in a long time and maybe that was the best medicine of all.

In the end, I have given up looking for relaxation. I am just going to have to learn to take deep breathes and get over it!