Mrs. Wife and the Daughters were down at the shore with another member of the Mommy Mafia and her brood when I got home from work last night so dinner was not on the table, as is usually the case. Not a problem! I had an evening massage appointment scheduled and didn’t have time to stand in front of a hot stove so I leapt into quick-feed mode. Dinner consisted of:
1 slice of bread with peanut butter
1 tall glass of cold milk
Some Wise potato chips
1 “fun size” bag of M&Ms
A second (larger) serving of potato chips
1 Klondike ice cream bar
Sounds scrumptious, doesn’t it? I lived alone for the better part of two decades and can’t recall eating so erratically. I think my dinner-making skills were severely compromised somewhere along the matrimonial way.
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I could never be a masseuse. To me, it’s an intimate act that requires you invade someone’s very personal space. Generally speaking, if I’m giving a massage, I want it to lead to something else. And I don’t mean sore hands. How do they do it? According to Jenna, the inflicter of pain (she uses her elbows!), it’s just a job. I had other questions that needed answers and she obliged.
I asked her if they charge extra for people who are morbidly obese (they don’t), how they deal with an exceptionally hairy man (lots of oil) and if a client has ever made a pass at her (all the time). She said she can see passes coming a mile away. Typically, men will pollinate by over-tipping and eventually move in for the kill. One particularly frisky client whipped off his towel, grabbed her hand and…well…yea. She ran out of the room and got the manager. Do you know what they did to him? They canceled his membership. Pardon me, but, isn’t that sexual assault? Did he get away with something? I asked what she does if a client starts to get a little too flirty. Her favorite road block is to steer the conversation into her exercise program, which includes lots of kick boxing and Tae Kwon Do. She’s got the shoulders and strength to prove it! Clever girl.