A post by tkingdoll! What’s it been? A year? Too long, anyway. I will blog more, I promise. Starting with this.
Being one of those busy executive types, I like to indulge my stresses by going for regular massages. Once a month I let the expert fingers of Chantelle pummel my muscles into submission, and she and I have developed an excellent rapport. She knows just how much pressure to apply, and I donâ€™t freak her out by making any soft moans or freaky squeaking noises. I tip her well and in return she doesnâ€™t annoy me with small talk about where Iâ€™m going on holiday.
The beauty salon I attend is called, appropriately enough, Ego. They offer a full range of beauty treatments, many of which Iâ€™ve tried, and have so far been entirely woo-free. Until now.
I called last week to schedule an appointment, and Chantelle informed me that they had a new Hot Stone Massage which, she assured me, was amazing. I trust her, so took the recommendation without asking any questions. Plus, I figured it would be fun to try something new and frankly a bit scary-sounding.
Off I went for my Hot Stone Massage. At this point I will mention, for the benefit of curious male readers, that I do shave my legs and armpits for my masseuse but I donâ€™t wear my best underwear. Normally I go straight in, strip off to naught but my knickers, and wait. This time, though, Chantelle asked me to complete a card of questions. They started well enough, a checklist of potential skin problems which could be aggravated by the hot stones. Then the next checklist was lifestyle-related. Do you suffer from anxiety, stress, anger, depression, sleeplessness, etc. A tiny alarm bell goes off at this point. Surely some of these require medical intervention, not oily rubbing? But I was then distracted by the hilarious combination of the next two questions:
Like your job? YES/NO
Dislike your job? YES/NO
I circled â€˜NOâ€™ for both, just for fun, handed back the card and went into the candlelit massage room.
The massage itself, which lasted for nearly 90 minutes, was indeed amazing. After being slathered in oil, I was massaged with large, smooth stones. Quite a sensation. Towards the end, Chantelle turned me over (under a towel, guys) and placed stones on my hips, stomach and forehead. I had my eyes closed so didnâ€™t see exactly what she was doing, but after she put a pebble between each of my toes (I didnâ€™t giggle), she said gently â€œIâ€™m now going to realign your chakras with crystal healing. Iâ€™ve chosen amythest and topaz based on your questionnaireâ€.
OK, so Iâ€™ve been a skeptic for a good long while now. Long enough, youâ€™d think, for a gut reaction to such a statement to kick in. I would expect my brain to make me leap up, stones flying everywhere, to cry â€œYOUâ€™RE GOING TO DO WHAT?â€. Butâ€¦how could I? I would have embarrassed Chantelle horribly, undone all the great relaxation work, and spoilt my rather pricey massage. Plus, I was mildly curious. So I said â€œOK!â€ and let her do it.
The chakra realigning was about three minutes of the ninety. She took the stones from my body, one at a time, held them over me and tapped them twice each against the crystals. She told me that many people feel â€˜zombifiedâ€™ after this process. I wanted to point out that the combination of euphoria, dehydration and relaxation, plus a large dose of â€˜I want to believeâ€™, will produce the same effect with a dried dog turd as with the crystals. But I held my tongue because I was having a good time.
Chantelle was disappointed that I didnâ€™t feel â€˜zombifiedâ€™. But I couldnâ€™t lie to her when she asked me one thing: yes, I did feel fantastic, thanks. I attribute that to the massage, not the crystal healing, but would be very happy to volunteer as a massage subject should anyone wish to test the theory. Iâ€™ll even bring the pebbles.