Rub, rub, barf. This one’s all over the place.

23 May

There was a moment during my most recent massage (the one following the fire-alarm facial) when I’m pretty sure I heard my masseuse gag. She was pregnant, in her first trimester, and – as I lay face-down on the table – I heard her swallow a wave of nausea.

It got me wondering how many people have ever been barfed on in the middle of a professional massage.

I mean, surely it’s happened to someone. I want to interview that person.

Suddenly, my massage was mentally hijacked… in my best Barbara Walters’ voice, I imagined myself prompting, “So Donna. You were face-down, expecting a relaxing massage. Take us back to that moment. When did you realize you were bathed in vomit rather than massage oil?”

At some point, I realized that it was probably not natural to spend a portion of one’s massage contemplating a half-digested shower, so I tried to push the thought from my mind and relax. But then another – equally horrifying – thought occurred to me. What if it wasn’t her pregnancy that made her gag? What if it was ME?

I started a paranoid accounting of myself. Toe nails… trimmed and painted… No flabbier than the average client. No warts on my feet… Legs shaved… I’d showered right before my massage so no chance of my feet smelling funky.

And then it occurred to me: SPIDER BITES.

I’d woken up the night before with itchy legs and found two huge welts (dare I say HIVES) on my leg, each with a perfect dot in the center. They were bigger than mosquito bites, so – even though it was 3 am – I woke Alan up, turned on the light, and tossed the bed looking for whatever bit me.

I didn’t find it, but I figured I’d probably either killed or displaced it with my flurry of activity, so I was able to go back to sleep.

But lying on the massage table with two huge welts on my legs that looked like botfly larvae might burst forth at any moment? A person wouldn’t need to be pregnant to want to puke.

Speaking of – I actually don’t think I can finish this post. I just bounced over to Google images to see if I could find a “funny botfly larvae” photo to illustrate this story. That was a HORRIBLE idea. Those words should never be in the same search string. Take my word for this.

And so it is… only in my world can a massage lead to a fantasy that ultimately tracks to parasitic worms. No wonder I never seem relaxed.

8 Responses to “Rub, rub, barf. This one’s all over the place.”

  1. ldsrr91 May 23, 2012 at 7:04 am #

    Oh Lord … Take me now! I believe I have read it all.

    Very good, I am smiling and holding it in.


    • pithypants May 27, 2012 at 7:11 am #

      Hasn’t anyone ever told you “better out than in?” Trust me on this – it is very good for you. Maybe not so good for those around you, but good for you.

  2. Madame Weebles May 23, 2012 at 4:23 pm #

    You have me laughing/holding down barf thinking about how bad an idea it would be to search for “funny botfly larvae.”

    • pithypants May 27, 2012 at 7:08 am #

      Oh you’ll laugh until you do it. Then you’ll need therapy.

  3. thesinglecell May 24, 2012 at 11:20 am #

    Okay, no. If I woke up having been bitten by something very real and then didn’t find it, there would have been no more sleeping. You’re practically capable of living in the Amazon.

    • pithypants May 27, 2012 at 7:07 am #

      Good point. Maybe I’ll audition for the next Survivor. That show *is* still on, right?

  4. pithypants May 27, 2012 at 7:10 am #

    Thanks for the call-out in your blog!


  1. You Lessons Soon…Or Coffee. Whatever. | A Rich, Full Life In Spite of It - May 23, 2012

    […] PithyPants: If you’ve ever had that moment where you worried that a person massaging you might throw up, read this. […]

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