She Didn't Even Buy Me Dinner

The other day, my stepdaughter and I went to the spa and got massages. Before getting started, my therapist asked about the stomach and breast massage part of things. Typically, they will rub/massage your stomach and the top part of your chest. Getting my stomach flab rubbed around doesn't really do it for me, but I don't necessarily mind it. During the breast massage part, in my experience what they'll do is massage the top part of your chest, and they ask because either they will completely undrape you from the waist up, or they will undrape you and put a little strip of a towel over your nipples. So, in the past, I've found that they ask about this more for modesty reasons rather than for permission to feel you up.

Not this time. When she said breast massage, she meant breast massage. She pushed them in. She pushed them out. She pushed the top and bottom together to make a horizontal boob. She pushed them up to my chin. Okay, okay, those of you who know me are thinking "Sarah, quit kidding yourself. They won't reach your chin" but she was sure giving it one hell of a try. I had to bite my tongue and think DONTLAUGHDONTLAUGHDONTLAUGH to keep from busting out laughing. I really thought I was going to lose it at one point.

Since I'm such a spa whore, I'm sure I'll get another massage in Redang this weekend. This time, I think I'll opt out of the breast massage. I really don't want to go to second base with another massage therapist. Plus, I really don't want to have to explain it in painstaking detail to M afterwards.