In which I had a massage appointment today!

About a year ago, a couple of women set up their massage practices in a building a few doors down from where I work and promptly started coming in for lunch enough that I met them, and eventually I booked an appointment with one of them and have been going every month or three since.

I don’t know exactly what the style she does is called, but it’s some variation on deep tissue. She’s Thai, so odds are non-zero it’s sen line work. Let’s just say it hurts, but a lot less than that German one that requires a dozen appointments where they dig their thumbs into your body like you’re being interrogated.

Anyway, as I was lying there experiencing the touch and subjective feelings of nurturing and care of a massage, it occurred to me that a lot of people have never had a professional massage in their entire lives, let alone enough of them to have opinions about the various styles, and I felt really kind of sad about it. Getting a massage is, well, good for you. Not to sound like a “wellness” peddler, because I’m not, but it truly is a net benefit to get body work even if you’re not particularly injured.

The first time is a little nervous-making, because you’re doing stuff you just never do in the course of your regular life: undressing in a strange room, lying naked under a sheet while a stranger rubs you, experiencing all the endorphins that you have, until now, only ever experienced in the presence of your intimates: people like your mom, or your child, or your very nearest and dear-ests. And it does take a few sessions with each new therapist until you can just lie there and take it without worrying about reciprocity, farting, or sweating on the sheets.

But OH MY FUCKING GOD, IS IT WORTH IT, and for a whole list of reasons.

For one, there is never ever any other time in your life when somebody rubs you, competently and non-stop, with no other agenda, for a whole entire hour. Ever. It lights up every single primate grooming center in your brain and it’s wonderful.

Two, it’s the only time you ever really perceive—and by extension, inhabit—your own body so well, so thoroughly, and without distractions: only during a massage do you consider, in sequence, each layer of your own musculature and how it connects to your skeleton. (You may be very aware of one place or another on your body if you’re injured or doing the effort of yoga or whatever, but that is very much not the same.) You get to really just be right there in your meatsack with no distractions, and I think this is important for both physical and mental well-being.

Three, all you owe for it is money! (Anybody who has ever been in a couple knows that there’s often bartering for stuff like back rubs, foot massages, scalp scritches. If you want ’em, you most likely have to pony up something in return, because most shit’s transactional even if we really try not to be that way.) You do not owe your massage therapist an entire hour of rubs in return, you just give them money! And leave! It’s fucking spectacular, really.

It’s very nearly one of the only things you can do, or have done, just for you yourself. You get to lie there for an hour being worked on, being in your body, being quiet and still… just being. Really just being. You’re not on your phone, you’re not waiting, you’re not doing, you’re not supposed to be anywhere else. You’re just existing. While you lie in a warm, dim room on a lightly heated table and someone digs into your flesh and rubs all your muscles and connective tissues and fascia into true whole-body relaxation.

Now, I don’t know if there’s any, like, actual science behind the whole “knots” idea. Deep tissue therapists will find a so-called knot in one of your muscles and work the hell out of it, and it hurts. You make faces, and grunt, and you tense up, because it hurts. And you think, “Why the fuck am I paying for this? That’s not a knot, that’s always been there because I sleep on that shoulder!” But I’ve been thinking about it off and on for the past year, and, well: endorphins, for one, duh, and two, incredibly mild injury must prompt your body to heal itself, right? and that’s probably good for you somehow? Maybe deep tissue massage causes a flurry of new white blood cells, or tells your brain to do some form or another of housekeeping. I dunno, but even if it’s just the calm of an inherited response to grooming rituals, you know you feel so much better afterward.

And best of all, after you and your therapist get comfortable, usually a half dozen or so sessions in, you get to experience what can only be called the butt massage!, where every muscle that attaches to your pelvis on back and sides is pressed and rubbed. You have no idea how tight that shit is until the tightness is gone! Today I went to Safeway after my massage, and realized while ambling through the produce section that my hips were actually rolling back and forth again. My age, weight, and job lock up my body so much that the only time that happens is for a day or three after each massage, and I always forget in between massages how great it is.

And regardless of style, there’s always a section at the end where you’re lying on your back and the therapist handles your neck and skull, and it’s the best thing ever. All the little muscles that hold your head up all the time get attention, and there’s no knot-digging here, just lovely soothing massage. That section alone is worth the price of admission.

My massage therapist told me I’m an “easy” client (apparently the rest of her clients actually have serious issues or injuries), and I guess this somehow translates into many of my 60 minute appointments going over. Today I was on the table for an hour and twenty minutes, and I think this is because she just gets to do what she feels like, instead of having to focus on something particular? I don’t know, but it’s awesome for me.

Anyway, if you’ve never had a massage, go fucking get one. Yes, you’ll feel awkward and weird at first, and you’ll think way too much about everything from how you look to how you’re being judged (because minds are idiots, and you’re not being judged), but you’ll still enjoy the results after you leave. And, after a few sessions, your mind will shut up and you’ll know (if it’s deep tissue massage rather than, say, relaxation massage) the knotty bits are totally worth it whether “knots” exist or not, and you might even get the experience of going home after a massage and crashing out hard, because sometimes post-massage relief can make you take a nap, which is super fun and wonderful. And fuck it, you deserve it! Go book a massage!