After 30 minutes of rubbing, pressing and squeezing by an Ayuredic masseuse my eyes are struggling to focus on the words as a write, while I struggle to breath as the room fills with a smog of incense. This was my first professional massage, besides questionably over friendly acquaintances and personal space invaders no one else had attempted to move these muscles. This soon became apparent to the masseuse as he tutted and sighed at every lump and bump my ‘stressful’ life has created on my shoulders. His disappointment made me feel like a naughty school boy who hadn’t done his home work. To remedy my knotted slinky of a back he went to town on my shoulders with hard and brutal massaging that brought tears to my eyes. I have to admit at some points during the 30 minutes the pain brought childhood memories of being pummelled in the schoolyard flooding back. He ruffled my hair roughly as he ‘massaged’ my head, however, it felt more like an old man congratulating a child. His oily hands moved through my hair leaving a some what greasy look to my hair from the apparently special oil, however, it did smell ever so slightly of olives.
At the end of the longest 30 minutes of my life I must confess I did not feel in the slightest bit different except for very oily hair and the feeling like I had been slightly molested. When all three of us reconvened after our massages we discovered the true extent of the masseuses molesting. Hayley received what can only be called a strip massage as he attempted to grope certain areas that are labelled by most masseuses as censored and thus off limits. As the masseuse finished with me he did urge me to return to him for a full body massage, however, stripping down to my delicates and having a stranger fondle me doesn’t exactly fill me with excitement, so perhaps I’ll give it a miss.