I got my first professional massage on Friday. I’d been thinking about getting one for awhile. Mainly because about 15 minutes into my work day lately, my shoulders are hunched up beside my earlobes. I’m typing super fast, like, I don’t know, some sort of amphetamine-riddled secretary. It’s kind of nonstop all day.

I can’t really do crazy hours at work. I’m never going to be one of those people talking about my 70-hour work week. To me, even a 50-hour work week sounds like something some asshole made up. So, when things are crazy, I just make up for it by typing super fast and having zero non-work-related thoughts for 7 or 8 hours. That’s a mild exaggeration, but essentially when I look up at 5 pm, I have a herniated neck and a lower back that feels like somebody pink-bellied it all day.

Anyway, review of my first massage that didn’t involve a boyfriend, coercion, and disappointment. 

It did not change my life like I thought it would. It certainly felt good during, but as soon as I stood up, I felt pretty much the same. I told the guy, “ohhh, I feel much taller,” because you would literally have to spit on me to get me to complain about any type of service. But, really, all these people were walking out of their massage rooms all sweaty and swooning. Either they were being ridiculous, or my little Paul Rudd/Will Forte-looking masseuse wasn’t very good. 

Anyway, I guess I might try another massage in a few months if the work pace doesn’t let up. I also convinced myself that if I got a massage, it would reset my body and somehow fix my lack of workout motivation… Failure on all fronts. I did play three rounds of Kinect Adventures yesterday, but I seriously almost puked. Fleehhh…