Today I got a prenatal massage. I got it because my _____ hurts (fill in the blank). I got it because I have officially developed a clicking noise in my spine when I walk. But mostly I got it because I have a gift card to a spa so I got it for free. Definitely mostly that.
It was so relaxing and nice, but as warned it didn't really do anything to alleviate my lower back pain. I'm pretty sure the only thing that will achieve that is birthing this little boy who for 9 months has resided only on the right side of my body. I'm no doctor but my intuition tells me that his love of the right side + my aching, throbbing right hip has something to do with the clicking in my back.
Nonetheless, it was heavenly. I got some back massage, hot stone action, foot rub, and head scratching. A head scratch might just be my favorite physical pleasure of all time. I can't even wait to tally up how much money I can save on massages when my kids are old enough for me to trick them into scratching my head for extra toy store money. I'll make it seem more noble than that though...I've got time to devise a plan.
The whole time she was scratching my head, in between fits of ecstasy, I was thinking, I wonder how such accepted professions came to be. For instance, who was the original person who first had the disposable income and the gall to say to a pal, "Hey buddy, I really trust you and you look like you have strong hands and a major need for cash so, no disrespect at all, but I will actually give you money to rub my entire body for an hour. With oil. Oh, and throw in some head scratches while you're at it"?
That had to have been awkward.
But, like the first person to ever see a pineapple and think, "Oh this is a good idea, let's definitely sink our teeth into this!", this trail blazer has enriched my life in ways I can never reciprocate...or truly justify.
I 
massages.
massages.
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