And you shall be...

I had a couple of reasons to become a massage therapist.

1) It was more lucrative than teaching or theatre/music.

2) I was always pretty good at it

3) It fit into my schedule

4) It was flexible so when I do start doing theatre/music again I have some sway in my hours.

5) There's a bit of a romantic ideal to working in a spa and the idea of traveling the world as a massage therapist was really appealing.

6) I like working with people.

I think these are all pretty standard reasons for lots of people to become massage therapists. Well I got a bit of a pat on the back today which is always nice.

I have a client I have seen a handful of times and each time I have always gotten the vibe that the client was unhappy with me as a therapist. That, despite my best efforts, they left the spa less than satisfied. I don't know what gave me that impression (demeanor? tone of voice? body posture?) but I always felt a bit like they were disappointed. (You may notice I'm not giving my client a gender, mainly to protect client confidentiality...any time I write about an experience in the spa it will remain as vague as I can leave it and still tell the story.)

Well today the spa got a call from one of the trainers at the gym requesting me specifically for their client. I work fairly closely with the PT department so my name is probably at the top of most of their recommendation lists whether or not they've worked with me before because I'm one of the only therapists they would even be aware of. The trainer said their client was complaining of an issue in their neck and was about to go on a long business trip and they had to get in. My book was closed off but I said they could come in for a 30 minute session to see what we could take care of.

When I saw who the client was I thought that the trainer had probably forced me as the therapist because they knew my name and knew I had a solid reputation but the client still wasn't excited about it.

I consulted with now my client and found out the source of their pain and what the issues were with range of motion and got to work. About midway through the massage (after the client actually stopped to take a work phone call) they said:

"I'm so glad you were here and could see me. You always fix me. I've gone to other therapists and I always feel a bit better when they're done. You fix me though. You should do as many massages as you can because it will be great for your karma. Being a healer is so amazing and you're a healer."

Wow. I gotta say that's a pretty strong reinforcement that I'm doing something right. This client went from one I was certain didn't like me to one of my biggest fans. Clearly it's silly of us as therapists to impose anything on our clients or to assume anything about what they think of us unless we're told directly. I'm confident in my abilities as a massage therapist and I like to think that I do certainly help people get better but there's some sort of density to the word healer that I'm not sure if I'm ready to own just yet. I aspire to one day be comfortable with that title but in the meantime it's really nice to know that at least someone already gives it to me.

This post about ta...

It's nice sometimes when you get an unexpected burst of being happy.

This morning (9/15) I had one of those moments just driving to work. Some dancey song came on (embarrassingly enough I think it may have been Ke$ha which makes my heart die a bit to type) and I just immediately fell into a good mood.

Work is hard. My body is sore from training. I don't have a ton of free time to do the things I'd like to do. Then suddenly something gives you a burst of happy and it carries you for a bit. It's moments like this that are refreshing and more importantly reassuring for me that even though I'm not exactly where I want to be in the moment (in more ways than one) that my core is still pretty happy...even when lots of things are stressful. I'd like to think that I won't ever lose that.

Meathead Princess

I work at a super chi-chi/posh/upscale gym spa in one of the fittest cities in America.

This is not really a place I would ever have really seen myself working had you asked 2 years ago but somehow here I am.

You can't work at a place like this and not be shamed into trying to get into shape. The most perfect bodies (and judgmental eyes) come in and out the doors all day. I had just begun trying to "shape up" a bit during massage school because I felt like I couldn't market massage as a health benefit if I waddled into the room. (I also have bad lateral turn out so the descriptor of "waddle" is really not that much of a hyperbole.) After getting a job at this gym I had to kick things into higher gear. I started trading massages for personal training sessions with my trainer Lisa at the first location I worked at. I learned a ton from her and we started putting together some fitness plans/goals so I could get in shape for Ginger's wedding.

Having been a "fitness baby" I was learning a lot of things really quickly from the PT time and I started to see results. By the time Ginger's wedding rolled around I had lost quite a bit of weight and was pretty happy with the results. I did however want to put on some muscle. I've always wanted a nice chest, arms and back (who doesn't?) and I thought while working at a gym spa, surrounded by knowledgeable personal trainers is probably going to be the best time in my life to get it together.

Since Ginger's wedding my goals have changed from weight loss to muscle gain officially. (Hopefully weight loss will continue as I gain more muscle and increase my metabolism but the body only does one of those at a time really well I've been told.) Apparently the best and most effective move for total body muscle gain is a weighted squat. So of course I want to do squats.

Problem.

I have ridiculously tight hamstrings and calves from being overweight my whole life. My pelvis has tilted and elongated my quads resulting in ridiculous flexibility in that direction but tightened my hamstrings leaving me unable to even do a straight legged toe touch. Apparently, flexible hamstrings are pretty necessary to doing a squat. So while I've known for months now that squats are the way to go, I haven't been able to do one even without weight because of my hamstrings. I can't get fully into the squat position without falling over so you don't want to put a huge bar on top of me before hand.

We've constantly been working on increasing my flexibility to try and get my body able to handle a squat and today was the day to really go for it. We started doing squats on a medicine ball (trying to touch my butt to the ball without falling and without flaring my knees) first to get the form down. I could cheat and grab a stabilization bar if I needed to but slowly my form improved and I got deeper into the stretch. Then we added the bar with no weights (which is still pretty damn heavy).

This hurt. A lot. Apparently the flexibility level in my back is pretty low too because even just holding the bar felt like it was ripping my shoulders out of socket but on we press. The added weight actually helped get deeper into the squat and wasn't terribly difficult to lift. I have pretty strong legs if I might toot my own horn...not much else on my body is strong but legs seem to develop some power when they carry around a fat guy all day for 20 years.

We added weight and it started to get more challenging but I actually enjoyed it. (Who am I?) There are apparently some exercises I actually like. Squats, dumbbell rows and overhead presses being the three that immediately jump to mind. I feel like that meathead I always secretly wanted to be. Lisa, knowing my goals are 90% aesthetic, told me that once I added dead lifts to my repertoire then I'd have a routine that would make me into that meathead princess I hoped to be. Lisa has learned that I enjoy two types of exercises, ones that make me feel like a badass (see above) and ones I can pretend are dancing. She's slowly putting together the complete "Meathead Princess" routine. You can bet there will be a workout DVD coming out of this. Reserve yours today, it's gonna fly off the shelf.

Get in and don't ask questions

Tuesday August 16th (to catch up on the date this *should* have been posted.

Not too much exciting to write about. The "return day" is always a bit mundane I think when you're coming off a trip high.

The only real notable experience was riding home (at 1:30am so it counts as happening on Tuesday) in an unmarked cab.

I got off the bus and was dreading finding a cab. As I approached the gates I was relieved to see a couple of cabs waiting and a guy asked me if I needed a cab. I enthusiastically forced out a "Yes!" in my sluggish half asleep state. Rather than whisking me off to his bright yellow cab he pointed to a lady who came up and asked me "where ya goin'?" and I told her my address and she said "Yeah, I'll take ya."

Now I still think she's going to lead me to her cab but she leads me to her Corolla with a strawberry shaped air freshener hanging from the dash and motions for me to sit in the front.

"Ummm, how much is it gonna cost to take me home?"

"Where do you live again?"

"14th and Webster, northwest..."

"Ohhh ummm that's gonne be $12."

That's about what I was anticipating so rather than dealing with the hassle of finding another cab I agreed.

Now if you've ever sat in the front of a cab you might be familiar with how awkward that kinda feels. You want to just zone out and either close your eyes, look out the window or play on your phone but it's a bit weird to do it when there is another person right across the arm rest from you but at least most of the time the driver doesn't really engage with you.

This was not Kristen's way.

"How was your trip?"

"Where did you go?"

"That sounds fun! Did you like it?"

"What do you do for work?"

"Ooooh I love spas, I just went to get my nails done last week and they *longer story than worth typing*"

"Oh so this is up past the Upshur pool? That's gonna be $14."

Damn it. I knew that would happen. I briefly considered telling her to just let me out there cause unmarked cabs are so sketch (I had already passed up about 3 in NYC when I was there due to sheer skeeze factor) but I was exhausted and couldn't imagine traipsing around looking for someone else to take me home. While mentally and verbally exhausting, Kristen was at least nice and had called me "boo" a couple of times and I'm a sucker for that.

By the end of our trip I had recommended Spaworld to her for her weekend plans and I had learned of her affinity for baths over showers and how spicy foods make her gassy.

Unmarked cabs...probably best as a last resort unless you're feeling chatty...or like you don't need that extra $4.

I crossed the river but didn't die of dysentery

Day 3 in NYC's experience is walking the city. It's a great (albeit tiring) way to see the city and get a better feel for it.

After taking the subway from Astoria down to the Battery I walked around the coast line and had a brief moment of "What would my life be like if I had moved here right after college like I always imagined I would in high school?" It wasn't a sad moment just one of those million possibilities kind of reflections.

An awesome urban community garden plot on the Battery

My dear friend Ginger (who I grew up with and have followed each other basically everywhere till graduating from college) and I always sort of dreamed of moving from bumblefuck to the biggest city we could imagine and what it would be like to be artists/actors/musicians/bohemians/servers/bartenders/badasses in NYC. We visited in high school and it was the last time I saw the Statue of Liberty. I've been back to NYC since but it was foggy and she was just a dark blurry shadow every time. This time the sky was clear and I could see her. Even though I live in DC where I see impressive monuments all the time (and they still have an effect on me even two years later now and again) this time it made me stop and have a nice little moment.

Not the best view of her for sure but this is the exact moment I had my "What if" pause.

I followed my iPhone map (it's a phone too?) to the Brooklyn Bridge. I wandered past Wall Street and then found the pedestrian entrance to the bridge. It was actually a pretty nice walk. Pretty crowded but everybody was pretty easy going. It's a great view of the skyline and it finally helped solidify exactly where the hell Brooklyn is in my mental map of NYC. After picking the absolutely wrong turn (that leads down to Fulton Street, the shopping district in Brooklyn, via an extremely long and impossible to escape path down the middle of the street) I jumped on the subway and went to Central Park.

What's good for Wall Street is good for main street...right?

The bridge walk begins

Great view of the sky line

Obligatory self shot to prove I was there. See! I didn't just steal all these pictures.

Central park is a strange combo of huge empty fairly boring spaces and beautifully manicured and interesting gardens. It's so big and daunting...I've been before and thought I'd seen all of it but clearly that's not the case because I hardly even recognized anything. Wandering past the turtle pond, the Shakespeare garden and all the other areas was a great close to my trip. I had no idea where I was going but just enjoyed the process of exploring. I think if I lived in NYC I'd take my days off and just wander like this a lot (at least to start). You get more mental map (clearly this is important to me since I can't stop talking about it), you get time to reflect on what's going on and you get some pretty amazing people watching.

I'm a sucker for pathways with trees rounded over them like this. I will take a picture every damn time even though they ALL look the same. This one is pretty quality though.

A little pavilion area near the row boat docks.

I've got to do this but I wasn't about to be that lame guy rowing a boat by himself.

I dare you to look at this bench and tell me New York isn't romantic. Seriously. You sit in this bench with somebody and you're getting married. Done deal.

While I hadn't reached my fill of Central Park, I had reached my limit for walking. My feet and calves were starting to tighten to a level I couldn't ignore anymore so I decided it was time to plant somewhere. I hopped in a cab and made my way to the West Village to crash at a coffee shop on Gay street and see the landmark Stonewall Inn and the memorial.

After work my friend Will came out to meet me for dinner but not before I drug him along to "The Pleasure Palace" to purchase a new accouterment or 3. (On a completely unrelated topic there are no more photos in this article.) Will is clearly a pretty good sport.

After this round I've decided that I could definitely live in NYC and I'd probably enjoy it a lot. The fear of not having my space is mostly dissipated and I think the trade offs would be worth it, if only for a while. Now it's just a matter of when does it make sense or does it ever?

Give my regards

So day 2 of New York is of course another whirlwind of activity but I've decided that I should try and keep things to a minimum when there's just tons and tons to write about. So this is by no means a full account of the day but hits the high point.

A Broadway show.

The Dramatic Arts major in my clamors to see something when I go visit. While there were clearly more "artistic" shows offered while I was there, budgetary and time restrictions (couldn't get to TKTS early enough to grab tickets to much else) helped me decide that I would be going to see that camp-tastic movie port of "Priscilla Queen of the Desert".

Rachel and I searched for about 15 minutes trying to find the theatre...another moment of "I wish they'd just put up a huge sign somewhere and then it'd be easier to fi....oh."

Gay confession time: I'm not a huge fan of this movie. I've seen it once and did really enjoy it but I couldn't quote it to save my life. I felt a bit like a poser rolling in but nevertheless glad to be there. My friend Rachel joined me for the trip and we ended up moving up a tad to get a bit better of a view. I was kicking myself for not getting the cheapest tickets possible because they moved EVERYBODY up. Oh well. This was our final view from the balcony.

Sparkles!

Of course I didn't take any pictures during the show (because I'm a respectful theatre patron) but that's where all the real visuals were. The costumes were insane and over the top. The dance numbers were well done and the quick changes were all super impressive. I felt like overall the characters were pretty engaging (with an especially touching yet humorous performance from Bernadette the full on transexual). The arrangements were fun and the staging exciting. We ended up actually seeing the understudy for Adam/Felicia who did a pretty solid job overall but you could tell that the chemistry was a bit different between the girls. It was really clear though that he was really enjoying the chance to take the lead so I couldn't fault him for anything. The final number culminates with every cast member on stage in over the top Australian themed costumes. (Read oversized koala heads and full body kangaroo jump suits etc. etc.) The girls came out in Victorian hoop skirts that transformed pretty flawlessly into the silhouette of the Sydney Opera House. Really nice touch.

While it wasn't ground breaking theatre and the audience didn't leave the theatre changed in any sort of profound way, it was a fun show with some great spectacle. Aristotle may say spectacle is the least important aspect of a show but I think in a show based around 3 drag queens in a pink bus the order may shift around a bit.

Acrobatic Boobies

NYC. A city of "experience". Millions flock here to experience something. Theatre, food, culture, drugs, alcohol, excess, poverty and beauty. Constantly changing and moving. Even writing about NYC at all in a way seems cliche. Every writer and their mother talks about New York. All the theatre kids flock here to "make it". Everyone who grew up in a small town feeling like they didn't belong finds their niche in New York or dreams of finding it there at some point. So much to do and see and a constantly changing and growing landscape with an unceasing pace make this the perfect city to experience all sorts of things. (Hence the delay in writing about it, there was a whole lot of stuff crammed into three days and I wanted to include some pictures for this one. Maybe I can learn how to budget some time in the morning or something to get this done in the future. Damn you complete lack of self-discipline. Damn you.)

I'm quite honestly a bit intimidated of New York. Could I live here? Sure. I'm adaptable and pretty savvy about most things so I think I could totally "handle" living there. Every time previous to this trip I've come to NYC thinking "It's such a cool city but I don't think I'd want to live there." This trip I may have changed my mind. This time I thought it could be great to live there just for a year or two to really get the feel of the city and understand it...at least to some degree. Still, I wonder if I could keep up with the pace. Where would I find my "break" time? Where would I get the quiet moments? I know they exist here but they're pretty tough to find when you're just on a quick visit. Maybe one day in the future though a post will be titled "The Big Move". Until then, long weekends will have to do.

I arrived in New York as the sun was heading down and met up with Cathy's friend Cole (who's apartment we graciously crashed at) and we all went out to grab dinner at a vegetarian/vegan Thai place called Red Bamboo which was pretty tasty. We took a brief stop at a gay bar called "Boots and Spurs" (maybe?) where Cathy and Keri touched a footlong in a mesh hammock (I do have pictures but I don't think I'm allowed to post those) then we jetted off to meet Danielle (Cathy's bestie) and her boy Joe (both of whom have amazingly thick Bostonian accents which I for one find adorable...not the word most Bostonians would probably want attributed to their accent but trust I mean it with best intentions...it's a sexy accent and it makes me like you more so talk bean town to me). Our destination was "The Floating Kabarette" at a spot called the Galapagos Art Space.

The space is beautiful. My lame iPhone photos can't do anything justice but I'll include a couple.

I want a space like this.

There are two levels, the main level has 6 islands shooting off of a main aisle where patrons and performers can walk to get to their seats and the stage. The main stage is a proscenium and has a very minimalist charm to it. The stereotypical red curtain and velvet ropes separate the stage from the audience and our enigmatic host Bastard Keith paraded and entertained. Keith was a great blend of camp and talent and was a great MC for the show. The show opened with the performers from "Suspended Cirque" who had a great routine from hanging silks. The aerialists were just mindblowing, in particular the male members of the company. The movements being combos of sexuality, power and grace. It was truly inspiring (and makes you feel like the weakest piece of shit that ever walked the earth when you see them roll themselves up to the ceiling in the silks with their arms).

Here we have the ladies opening act. There was a third member who was performing on stage but these guys had our focus clearly. Core strength + 1000

Here are the menfolk: one singing a version of "Mad World" the other blowing my mind.

HOW DO YOU DO THIS?

The other "main act" so to speak was Jenny Rocha and her Painted Ladies who combined hardcore tap dancing (which I wouldn't have really believed existed until seeing them perform), Burlesque and a playful theatricality into what ended up being some amazing performances which I would categorize as the most turned on by women I've ever been .

This may be the first time I've had to "think about baseball"

with ladies.

If you made Stomp sexy and took off all their clothes and added pasties, you would have the above photo.

Interspersed between these acts were some great burlesque performers (who ranged from a pretty hot take on Alice in Wonderland to a pretty terrifying take on BDSM with lots of violent pelvic outbursts and flailing).

The group's agreed upon favorite.

There was a singer who had a decent voice who “remade” songs into a bit dirtier versions and it was fine and decent filler but nothing terribly exciting. We also were treated to the intensely weird but equally intriguing comedic stylings of Manchego the rail thin, poofy haired yet balding comedian who adeptly dealt with a Jersey Shore Douche Bag (JSDB) and ended up in a gas mask and tighty whities snapping a whip at a confused but well mannered chubby gay jewish guy tied to a chair.

There are lots of moments in my life, this being one of them, where I think to myself "I grew up in Harlan, Kentucky and now here I am watching a skinny caricature of a man wearing a gas mask snapping a whip at a tied up gay Jew while sipping on bourbon and coke...how did I get here?" I'm always pretty happy to be in those places.

After the show ended we all went out to some bars in NYC and ended up at a pretty cool spot called 2A. It was a low key and chill spot until the inevitable bar fight broke out and a dude punched a window and spidered it out. After some police drama and lots of drunken yelling the guy was arrested and taken off. We had a pretty great time overall though and we stayed out until around 4:30am then made our way back to Washington Heights to crash.

Night 1 officially closes as the sun starts to rise on the city.

New York, New York 10185

I will always remember that zip code from some commercial (which I can't remember what it was about) from my childhood. They would always say "Mail it in to something something something New York, New York one oh one eight five.

The purpose of this post is twofold.

1) Acknowledge that I made it 2 count em 2 whole days without a break in posting from my original start date and to comment on the fact that it's lame there's not post date feature on here so I can hide my shortcomings.

and

2) Acknowledge that I have 3 days to write up about from my trip to NYC. I have some photos to post and so these next few posts may take a while to backlog.

Hopefully by Thursday...and then I'll keep writing for what would be today's post and then Wednesdays and Thursdays as I'll still be behind. Don't count on anything terribly lengthy for Tue/Wed/Thur you vultures.

Wolftrap!

Having lived in DC for nearly two years something that has always been on my to do list has been to go see something at Wolftrap. Sadly most of the time it's so far off my radar that I don't see that something I would enjoy is there until it has already cleared out and then a lot of the other things they have there aren't super exciting.

This week a Facebook friend posted a coupon code to see The NSO Perform songs from Disney while movie clips and artwork played on the big screen. I thought this was the perfect chance to see something on the cheapish side while still actually being into it. (I less than 3 Disney, most notably the little mermaid and that's what they opened the show with so I had to go.) I bought two tickets for me and Chris and surprised him with a picnic (which I've been told is the best way to enjoy anything at Wolftrap.)

The venue is beautiful and I really want to go back maybe just to walk around and explore a bit more. It was a perfect summer's eve (but seriously folks) with amazing weather and just a great atmosphere of little kids dressed in Disney gear and adults reliving some childhood moments with a classy edge of symphony. The NSO was amazing as always, the vocalists were on point, the artwork and movie clips were fun to watch and the picnic was delicious. Wolftrap gets a gold star for fun and low key date night.

Overall it was a fantastic night with great music and a really fun mood. There is only one little thing I have to be pissy about.

I love kids. I often give kids more of a benefit of the doubt than most. Having been a teacher for a huge age range of kids and some with developmental issues I recognize that in public you almost never know the full story of what's going on and why a kid is acting up. I give parents a really long leash when it comes to keeping kids quiet and respectful. That being said, I also can spot when it's absolutely the parent 's fault that the kids are being brats and for that I have zero tolerance. Kids will be kids but adults should be adults. If your kid is wrapping himslf in blanket and fighting with your other kids on top of the people in front of you it is YOUR resposibility to do the following things.

1) Stop the kids
2) Chastise the kids
3) Apologize to the people they disturbed

This is your job. You are an adult. We are adults. If your kids interrupt other adults we don't expect the kids to stand up and say:

"Oh, I'm ever so sorry sir, I was excitedly playing with my friend here and we got so wrapped up in our tomfoolery that we lost track of our personal space and ended up on your blanket. We won't let it happen again."

What we DO expect though is for you to say "Ian! Stop fighting with Michael and scoot back up here. You're disturbing those people." Then you need to turn to those people and say "I'm really sorry."

At this point I'd be totally fine. In fact I'd probably still think "awww kids are cute and rambunixouus." But when you are a German au pair and you keep screaming

"IAN!!! MICHAEL!!! Schtop fighting and get back up here! Zer are ozha peeple he-yah! You are sho laud!"

And then go back to texting on your blackberry without acknowledging that the brood of the Aryan nation that you're babysitting for has rolled over the bag of food I brought and spilled water all over the place...that's when I get pissed.

Apparently ice dagger stares don't translate the language barrier because even when glaring full force at each child and said Frauline no one ever offered up an acknowledgemlent let alone and apology.

Oh well. Kids will be kids and German ladies will be bitches. Wolf trap still kicks ass.

(PS: if you're still wondering, when I say I less than 3 something: <3)

I promise that's just massage oil...

As a massage therapist there are a couple of things that we deal with now and then that are unique to our field. People fart on us. When you relax during a massage, everything relaxes. We have to deal with skeezeballs who still think massage is code for hand job. We listen to relaxing Enya music all damn day which trust me is not relaxing after the 40th hour of handbells and oriental wind instruments. Some massage clients have skin tags. Lots and lots of skin tags. You never know how close a back pimple is to popping if you don't know it's there in the first place. We stand on our feet all day bending and leaning and wearing on our bodies and we can't take sick days when we're just a little under the weather because we lose our income source. No clients. No money.

So unless a therapist is contagious we usually try and power through a cough or cold like a champ to keep the income flow. These are not fun days. When you go to work kinda sick or kinda hungover think of how awful it feels sitting at your desk blowing your nose and coughing. Now imagine being up and moving all the time changing the center of gravity of your congested head constantly while trying to create a relaxing and tranquil space for clients as snot and mucus build up in every oraface of your face and your esophagus slowly turns to sand paper. This is a cold for a therapist.

My cold started with a stuffy nose, until I started working on clients and leaning my head forward...then suddenly without warning it turned to a gushing runny nose. Turns out my shirt sleeve is as absorbent as a sham-wow. A runny nose in the treatment room is pretty easy to deal with though. You get a towel, keep it on your shoulder and bam, problem solved. The worst thing is having to cough during a massage. A cough is the most abrupt noise your body can make and certainly not conducive to relaxing or falling asleep especially with how abrupt it is. So now, I'm stuck in a treatment room with a naked man, Enya, a snotty wet sleeve and towel and an unyielding need to cough.

If you've ever tried to suppress a cough you'll know what this feels like. (I don't know why you'd EVER suppress a cough in the first place but I digress.). Every pore on your body starts to sweat. Your lips purse together and your throat clamps up. That tickle in the back of your throat becomes unbearable. As you try and breathe through your nose both of them stop up entirely forcing you to take in air through your already parched esophagus. Each breath a pull of the trigger in the Russian roulette of cough. You struggle to take in the minimum amount of air necessary to maintain basic functions and keep the flow of the massage going without letting on to the fact that you're in the most uncomfortable position you've ever been in internally. Doing your best to keep the client unaware of the awfulness brewing inside you.

You start to think, maybe I can just get some sort of baby cough out and that would help...yeah I can totally do a "controlled cough" and it won't be too loud. I'll just turn into my arm and it won't even register. You realize that would never happen as your body makes a gagging motion and you feel like liquid might burst from every opening in your face. Even as you think the need to cough has passed you realize that it hasn't and it won't until you do it. You look at the clock to see if you can make it the remainder of the time.

You've still got 30 minutes left.

What felt like 45 minutes was actually 5 and you're almost no closer to finishing. A couple of throat convulsions eek out of you which sound somewhere between a hiccup/cough/sneeze but they're quiet enough you can convince yourself the client didn't hear and thought the vibration was just part of the massage. Finally after finishing up one area of the body you decide you can't take it and excuse yourself to "take care of this tickle in my throat without disturbing you" and you leave the treatment room to cough once and blow your nose. All of that and it takes one cough.

I encourage you to try and stifle a cough for as long as you can just to see what this feels like because you can't imagine the horror without experiencing it yourself. Then imagine trying to hide the fact that you're supressing a cough while performing both a powerful and graceful motor skill.

Massage therapists have some interesting work hazards. Did I mention we get farted on. A lot.