If your feet could speak what would they say?
According to my massage therapist, my stinky feet told her I am about to get a urinary tract infection.
Two days ago I had my much anticipated deep tissue massage.
As my massage therapist began the treatment, she stopped and looked at me with a serious face, asking, “Do you really want deep tissue?”
My answer was, yes please! with a deep sigh of gratitude.
My last massage was hot rock, and while I loved it, I was feeling the need for some deeper tissue work.
She then looked at me and asked “why do all the skinny girls want a deep tissue massage?”
To that, I just shrugged with my best, “I dunno?” look.
This was just the second time in two hours I had been called a skinny girl.
The “waxer” over at European Wax Center tried to console my fried and fragile nerves by saying “you know, a lot of skinny girls cannot handle the pain of waxing.”
It actually sent me way back to my nineteen year-old self.
I remember sitting on the doctor’s table having just been out of cancer treatment for a few years. My doctor was inspecting two swollen lymph nodes in my groan area (the original cancer site was in my armpit, but hey, the groan is just another great place to have doctors poking around), when he remarked, “you know, this could be nothing, lymph nodes are just easier to see on skinny girls.”
Flash forward, and there I lay on the massage table thinking,
What’s the skinny here!?
The Skinny Bitch surfaced inside of me, pondering the situation.
Then Dimple-ty Do Do exclaimed:
“One more skinny girl remark and we’re going straight to Starbucks for an ALL whip, ALL fat, whole milk, extra shot Venti Mocha! Actually, make that two.”
Skinny Bitch hushed her back and continued with the massage.
I’m grateful for the deep tissue choice.
As my masseuse ran her fingers down the arc of my foot I yelped with a loud wince.
“Does that hurt?” she asked.
“Yeaaaahhhhhh.” I nodded back.
“I think you might have an urinary tract infection.” she replied.
“Really? I don’t feel anything” I said back.
Just to be sure she ran her fingers down the other foot in the same place.
“Yaaaouch” I said under my breathe.
Yup. Something is a brewing in the old bladder.
If there’s one thing Skinny Bitch isn’t taking this week:
I’ll be drenching myself in sugarless cranberry juice.
It tastes tart-fully awful actually. (much better if I blend it up with bananas and strawberries I find)
But it’s so worth the investment before we leave for Mexico.
Brings new meaning to dogs that bark.
And preventative medicine.
So here’s a question:
When was the last time you had a deep tissue massage?