Monday, 12 August 2013

IT LOOKS LIKE A DILDO

."Just start off by holding it... feel its energy pulsate," she said.

And so I found myself flat on my back, nearly naked and protected only by a flimsy blanket as I clutched the Rungu in my hands.

"Erm... just, er, hold it?"

"Yes..."

She has a weird sort of dopey voice. I think it denotes how calm and zen she is. I've already clocked the healing crystals and Tarot cards in her treatment rooms. Ahaaaaaaaaaa, I thought to myself. One of those beauty therapists.

I'm at a Groupon massage. I don't know if you've ever tried the lottery that is Groupon beauty treatments but they're hit and miss at best. My friend and I once had the most humiliatingly bizarre experience down a dingy alley in darkest bumtown of Leamington Spa. It was a terrifyingly bad luxury head to toe treatment, complete with dirty towels, cold rooms, being stripped almost naked with ruthless efficiency, scrubbed down like a defective newborn and a massage best described as the feeling of soft monkey paws tapping lightly on my skin for an hour in a tediously repetitive fashion.

Ever the optimist, sorry, ever the cheapskate, I decided to try again.

A 75 minute full body massage for £15 - how bad can it be? I didn't really look at the small print but I was vaguely aware it wouldn't be a hands only massage. I've had loads of different massages - hot stones, hot shells, bits of lavendery things, fingers, elbows etc etc, so wasn't worried.

As I walk in, she shows me what looks for all the world like an enormous wooden dildo. I mean, it just does.

Hang on, I'll find a picture. Here's one in action, being used on this lady's hand




Now you tell me what that look like. Yes, it looks like a massive wooden dildo.

I started to snigger. But internally. You know? When you have it bubbling up inside but you manage to keep it in. Because I am way too old to be sniggering at something just because it is phallus shaped.Yes, I am. Even if I find myself naked in a room with a strange woman who believes in fairies and crystals and who is just about to rub it all over my body.

I lie down and close my eyes.

I'm holding the Rungu as instructed, feeling its (snigger) energy when she starts giving me a head massage. It's not a great one. You know when you have them and your whole body melts into the rickety old table you're lying on and you forget where you are? It wasn't one of those. It was like having someone lightly pat your head for ages.

Then she moved on to my legs. From then on, what I can only describe as 60 minutes of having a rolling pin lightly - very, very lightly - rubbed up and down my limbs happened. Occasionally she would sort of jab me with it, like Mary Poppins jabbing a pigeon with her umbrella. Jab, jab, jab. Then back to tickly rolling.

Uncharacteristically I didn't say anything. Like: "Is this it?" or "I can barely feel it - get stuck IN woman," as I would with my normal massage lady. Because it just doesn't seem appropriate when one's masseur is wielding a 12 inch wooden phallus.

Every now and again I get the urge to squeal: "It looks LIKE A DILDO," to her but I restrain myself. I keep thinking it's going to suddenly feel amazing when it just... doesn't. And then it's over.

This is somewhat familiar.

"You'll feel the benefits of that." she sang/whispered. "It's all good."

This, I have learned, is her catchphrase.

Yeah, thanks very much bye and thank you bye it was lovely thanks bye. I said. And ran away feeling ever so slightly violated and very glad I didn't pay full price.


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