PMS

I suffer from PMS. It’s something I’ve just grown used to. I experience so many symptoms, I tire at the mere thought of writing them all. And, I’m PMSing right now. So, I’m going for a PMS massage at home. I want to try it. I read a few articles on Moon Cycle Massages. It sounds kind of corny, I mean that name sounds straight out of a focus group, but I’m into alternative health solutions if they exist. I’ll find out if this is just hype. I mean, the woman who wrote the article, maybe it works for her. But, I have to be skeptical, because everything seems to affect me differently than most. Maybe I’m just too sensitive?

Supposedly, this is a great way to feel better during your pre-menstrual cycle. I do not know if that’s possible. lol So far, I haven’t really found anything. I remember finding Evening Primrose Oil, and everyone said it would work wonders. Nope. Not in my case. I mean, eating a good diet of veggies, fruit smoothies, non-dairy protein shakes, fiber, Organic wheat white bread, picked stuff…I feel better every month just because I am feeling better, overall. I’ve eaten in ways that don’t work, and trust me, it does affect your PMS and menstrual cycle experiences. Eating garbage definitely pays me back later! Also, doing yoga daily changes the game, for the most part.

But it’s imperfect. I still suffer every month, and I think going for a massage every month would be best. I mean, ideally, that’s what I used to do. But then I read an article about PMS massage and realized it’s the ideal time to get a massage, and I usually need help with pain more during that time than any other. So I am planning on this very soon.

I know that during the month, a woman’s hormones go up and down. I am not sure of anything beyond that. Lutenizing hormone, yada yada yada,I forgot. It was in fifth grade hygiene class. That’s what they called it. Hygiene. I really appreciate that class, because growing public hair, I thought I was too young, and worried something was wrong with me. I thought I had a tumor, or hormone imbalance. I thought about it day and night. I actually did, no joke. When I read in Hygiene that pubes start growing at whatever age the handout said, I was under that age!! Totally convinced me for years something was wrong with me. Until I found out it was actually perfectly normal. Some girls start puberty earlier. Thanks a lot, Hygiene class. lol

I am not a raging ass during my PMS time. I am not an angry person, generally, so maybe that’s why? But I do suffer. I tend to sleep more. I feel more emotional. It would be an ideal time to go hiking in the woods, but I just can’t get up off the couch. It’s also when I feel lonely, and just a jumble of past emotions, feelings that are probably at the level of PTSD.

I used to make music every day. But I especially liked the time before my monthly period. I just felt more, and when composing, it just made those songs more interesting. I know witches say that when you menstruate, you’re “in your power,” but really, my “power” is from my own heart, and God. I think that during your period, you should rest, because that is what feels natural. I know with life, that isn’t always possible.

So my idea is of turbo-charging my PMS time, and instead of it being a syndrome, I will be primed for action, ready to paint a living room, ready to face life. Ready to make music! I know that there are specific things that a Moon massage is about. That’s a bad name, to be honest, because it makes me think you’re going to do it, like, on the full moon, or something. PMS massage makes more sense. I also feel corny saying “moon time massage.” It’s just too weird, even for me! lol

So for me, it’s really about the timing, not some gimmicky extras. I know that one place offers a monthly massage for PMS and it’s got some cute extras, but really, when I get a massage, that’s what I’m there for. Not cake. Not candy. Just a really good massage. I am just trying to be more mindful of timing. It’s all about the timing. And as far as essential oils go, my second cousin sells them. So, I just buy from her. I have a secret blend I use for PMS. I may ask the therapist to use my blend. Maybe I’ll even sell them the recipe?

So, my worst PMS symptoms are definitely tension. I get anxious, my jaw gets set on edge. I also feel lonely, as I mentioned. I can’t see how touch therapy wouldn’t help that. I also get kind of hyper, while many women report feeling fatigue. But I also get breast tenderness and other issues. Acne, cravings, feeling isolated. Wanting a boyfriend? Crying? Wanting sex? Crying some more. Binging. I can tell you that 90% of all this is just me responding to the feeling of anxiety. It’s like I get super-sensitive, and my jaw starts to hurt.

In the past, I think how I dealt with feeling that way was sunbathing, bathing in an actual tub with Epsom Salts, and masturbation. The last one, a lot. lol It seemed to take the edge off my anxiety. Like I said, my PMS is mostly tolerable, but my brain chemistry gets weird. So I just never made the connection with getting a massage and PMS. I’m happy to have come across that material, now I know it’s a thing.

But for me, it’s just a jumping off point. It’s like, OK, when’s the best time for a massage? During PMS, of course! I just never put two and two together. I think that, for me, just having a regular massage that I can rely on for help with monthly issues is the best plan.

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My Ample Cleavage

I have a HH bra size. Yes it exists and is for real. That has presented many issues for me in this life.

I don’t mind the random compliments, even from other women. I don’t mind the catcalls and whistles, from construction workers to bus drivers. I mean, these guys aren’t five-star hotel guests. They’re working class. That’s how it goes. I don’t even mind the attention. To me, it’s positive. I don’t understand women who balk at this. It’s not like men are walking up and touching me. (That happened twice, and both times it was by WOMEN! I’m reminded of the Molly Ringwald scene in Sixteen Candles where her grandma feels her up! lol) Uninvited sexual behavior has mostly been a non-issue, not counting these experiences.

One time, in a club, some drunk idiot two decades older than I was, started hitting on me. He followed me, all the way back to my family’s table in the back. lol Wasn’t seeing THAT one, were you? My cousins, the girls, went off on the guy. He apologized. It didn’t matter. He still had been a creep. My male cousins laughed. In their eyes, he hadn’t touched me, and didn’t really say anything offensive. He just wouldn’t stop talking even when I seemed to clearly show I was not interested. “Yeah, but did you outright SAY SO?” my cousin asked me. I admit I hadn’t. in their eyes, he was a guy being a guy, fairly respectfully.

When I was a tween, I prayed and prayed that my breast would grow. And, grow they did. By high school, I was already big. By college, I was the size I am now. I was flat-chested, and it was a source of agony for me. So why complain? Let’s see. There are lots of reasons. I know I can always fall back on a job waitressing at Hooters. But that’s not my style. So here’s why I really can’t deal with it all:

Seat belts in cars don’t seem to care that my mammary glands exist. Tops are more difficult to find, I mean tops and blouses that actually fit. Well. So shopping is a nightmare. And getting a bra? Don’t you dare suggest Victoria’s Secret. Grrrr….You’re making me angry now. Just kidding lol

I remember in university, those desks. The ones with the attached chairs. Those did not work. I mean, seriously? I’m expected to fit in there? I am not tall, and so the desk was right at the level where it interfered with my…personal space.

Now, I don’t view my breasts solely as a sex symbol, a carnal reminder that we’re not robots. I know that the point of having them is to feed a baby. So far, I haven’t gotten that far in life. I mean, I’m only 25, and in today’s world, that’s still young to start a family. I mean, I also know I look good. I like the attention. As long as someone is respectful, more power to you. You want to compliment me? You’re going to be as classy as you are. lol

I don’t like questions as to whether “they’re real.” That pisses me off. Of course they’re real! I mean, 90% of the time it’s other women asking. Women seem awed, like somehow, “the girls” will afford me more opportunities for dating. Maybe they’re right? Once I developed, I had a steady stream of interested guys. Maybe they have a point. lol

OK. Hot weather. I hate it. I end up sweating endlessly. I get home and have to jump in the shower just to feel clean. I wasn’t into AC until I developed. I remember getting yelled at by my Mom for turning my room air conditioning on during the day.

And eveningwear…that’s also impossible to find. I had a seamstress, a nice old Italian lady in Brooklyn, who used to make my dresses until she got too old. Thankfully, her sister-in-law continued the tradition. She doesn’t even speak English, but if I speak Spanish, she understands.

I also have strangely colored hazel eyes. To be honest, I get just more comments about my eyes than my chest. A lot of the time, people think I’m wearing colored contacts. Are you serious? I hardly even wear makeup outside of at the office. You think I’m sticking my fingers in my eyes to impress YOU? No way.

I realize that having unusually attractive features is going to garner me attention. But I have to say, most humans are respectful. There was once a butch dyke on the PATH train who was like, “Awesome! You’re 100% woman!” She said she could tell my breasts were real. I laughed and replied with, “They are.” I was stunned at her frankness, but it was true. I am not embarrassed. No way. I guess a compliment is a compliment? lol At least, that’s how I see it.

There’s also another issue. It has to do with back pain. I started lifting weights in high school, just because my back was straining under the weight of my front. But honestly, as long as I stay in shape, it’s not the least bit of an issue.

I remember the boys snapping my bra straps in middle school, laughing because there was nothing there. I guess Mother Nature showed them why laughing is not cool! lol I was mortified, and used to get those padded bras, but it didn’t help. My Mom said just wait. She had been a late bloomer, and so had my grandma and my aunts. She was right.

There’s actually a Reddit board for women with big boobs who are experiencing issues. I do want you to know I know a few women who’ve had breast reduction surgeries. They are not so great. You lose sensation. If they do it wrong, you can’t breastfeed. Screw that.

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My Experience With Helping Others

To build on the last blog, I am going to get further into it. Yes, my family is a rainbow. (We have some LGBTQ people, also! And, yes, we Catholics accept them, even still!) But I did mean of cultural backgrounds. That is cool. We were not raised racist. But neither were we really taught to be charitable. My parents hustled, ever trying to rake in the bucks from new income streams. My Dad was an electrician and my mom was a secretary. But their side gigs? They number in the dozens.

Anyway, while raised not to judge, we weren’t really told much about charity. I mean, my parents donated to some church and got these Christmas stamps every year with their return address on them. That was it. Maybe also sent money to some group that focused on my cousin’s disease? So to me, that’s all charity was. And I did my thing, and donated from the time I started working at 13 as a papergirl. Even if it was not a lot, I tried to give something.

So, besides that, I forgot, there was more. We always donated our used clothes. My parents would have bags and bags to give to some church that would come and pick everything up ridiculously early one pre-arranged morning. I’d go through my drawers and closets and make my own bags of old, unwanted clothes. I always had a lot to give,because I have a big family and always had a lot of clothes from Christmas and my birthday. I grew. That’s what kids do. Plus, some of the clothes I got were just not my taste.

Anyway, so now, I’m (slightly) older, and I donate my clothes. But my friend Ana informed me that the clothing and shoe drop I was bringing my stuff to (I live in an apartment so that’s the only alternative) was just a for-profit company! I was like, “waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat?” But I looked into it, and it’s true. Some of those clothes and shoes drop offs are not run by charities, and are a scam!! Then, many OTHER drop boxes re run by for-profit companies. They are not charities! You are giving away valuable clothing to people who straight up SELL them! You are being scammed!

The more I looked into this, the more it started to make my blood boil! I couldn’t believe some people have the gall to do this! I mean, you could say, at least they’re recycling. But they know most people think they’re doing charitable acts. That’s frikking disgusting. So between unscrupulous charities that collect clothing and shred it or sell it, and the for-profit companies that have clothing and shoe drop boxes made to fool people into thinking they’re doing good, to actual FAKE charity drop boxes, it’s all too much. This is why the world is burning. Human activity is so sordid! We are a nation, and world, with too many grifters and scam artists.

I found a charity that accepts kids clothes donations on Staten Island. That doesn’t help me too much, as I actually live in New jersey, but I do have friends there, and the place said that they will actually collect clothes in Northern New Jersey. They don’t have a drop off location, so you have to call and pre-arrange a pick-up like my Mom used to when I was little.

Good intentions are not enough. I checked out the Assertive Kids Foundation page on Guidestar and it looks like a real charity. Their web site even shows the kids getting the donations. And, they aren’t money-hungry, donating like $60,000 worth of clothes while only spending $1000! Incredible. I want to support them before they go the way of the do-do, if they haven’t already. I haven’t called them in a while, and you know how it is with smaller companies, charities, and groups. Here one day, gone tomorrow.

Clothes donation is something everyone does. We all think we’re making a difference, but in the end, we’re being scammed. This breaks my heart, and makes me feel like we need better laws. For instance, in NYC, I learned that these for-profit companies must state that they are not charities on their drop boxes. But they are not in Spanish! And, who reads the fine print on a clothing drop box, anyway?

Clothing, shelter, and food are the three basics. Imagine giving food to some place and thinking it’s going to feed the homeless, only to find that they are re-selling it in some cafeteria? That’s what this is like. Just think about it a little bit, and you’ll see the connection. My sister couldn’t accept that the charity she uses only gives 5% of the profits from selling clothes to their charitable cause, and the rest is used to keep the charity going. Oh well. I tried.

Oh, and, Assertive Kids is a Staten Island kids charity so they only collect kids clothes, I would imagine. I looked on their map, and they do give the clothes to kids on Staten Island, Brooklyn and the other urban boroughs of NYC, as well as a few people in Northern New jersey. All in all, I’d go with them in the future. I called them about eight months ago, or was it before the pandemic lockdown? I’d give a call and find out if they’re still around. They even donated to the local Leni Lenape tribe in Mahwah, New Jersey.

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The Beach

Do I tan? Do I ever! But I have to take it slow. I start out with five minutes, and add time every day. I begin in March, usually, weather permitting. By the end of the summer, I am very tanned. But does it matter? Not to me. I am more interested in getting sun. For me, it’s strictly therapeutic. The sunlight does me well in a way nothing else does. I mean my mind finally is at rest after being in the sun. And, I can stay out for hours without getting bored, something impossible for me when it comes to anything else. I mean, there’s sunburn.

Despite being Latina, I am fairly light-skinned, one of the blancos. Some of my cousins are trigueños, and so going to the beach with them, I have to remember they’re going to get me FRIED! They can stay morning til night and not get burned. I have to go under the umbrella, and even then, the sunlight reflected from the sand can still burn me!

This is when i think about color, at the beach! lol I can stay at the beach seven hours, but I pay for it. I don’t like sunscreen, as I have really sensitive skin. So, I am left to just limit my sun exposure. Plus, I’ve gotten burned even after I’ve applied gobs of sunscreen. Then, I deal with a burn AND the irritation of having put something on my skin other than plain castile soap. Not fun.

So there you have it. There’s just no debating about it. I am a beach bum, and the beach is my idea of heaven. But the sun burns me. It’s a paradox. Those sun rays, when taken in, in reasonable amounts, make me feel sooo good. The fact that I get tan is irrelevant to me at this point in my life. I’m not fifteen anymore. And, now I understand the value of white skin, but I choose to not care. I’m throwing my white privilege away for the price of feeling a wellness I’ve missed in recent years! lol I have Asian Indian co-workers who use skin bleaching cream because they understand many people are racist. If they’re trying to get lighter, and I’m out there enjoying the sunlight and getting shades darker by the end of summer, which makes more sense?

I think the sun is inherently healing. Sunlight does kill pathogens on contact. It’s a fact. Being out in the sun is a strange experience. By the end of the day, you feel like you’re tripping. Same feeling, wobbly, stomach nausea, but also a deep calm, restlessness…then you know you’ve had a good amount of sun. If you’re like me, you’ll always turn red first. What can I say? The sun is the only thing that makes me feel better.

My strategy is to always avoid sunburns. But the thing is, there’s not really any way that is possible. I really always stay out measured times, but then there will be one day when I don’t, I stay out seven hours instead of 90 minutes, and I end up turning so bright red, it’s insane. Sadly, I have no pics of this. But I hate the prickly skin sensation it causes. That makes anything but cold water seem burning hot. And if I scratch my arm, it burns. Then, I avoid the sun. That’s where I am right now. 🙂 lol I overdid it this past weekend. The day before, it rained when we got to the beach. So, trying to get two day’s sun in one day, maybe? Why not go for three.

I have been drinking carrot juice, in hopes that this will make it easier to resist sunburns. I even found studies proving this. Carrot juice helps with sunburns, it seems Oh, and don’t forget tomatoes! My COUSINS LAUGH AT ME because I “still” go to the health food store or Whole Foods, (as they call it “whole paycheck!) but I’ve been into eating a better diet for decades. I did so because eating crap made me very ill. I did this before it was a trend. I have hypoglycemia, and so at sixteen had to stop eating sugar and eating differently. From there, I made many other changes.

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Black Lives Matter

I am Hispanic: Half Puerto Rican and half Spanish from Spain. Of course, I support Black people in their struggle for equality. It’s a no-brainer. We were raised to not look at color. That’s why my family has Asian, Black, Italian, Russian, Armenian, Irish, German, and other Latino people married in. We are truly a melting pot. I think there are also some Dutch cousins? Anyway…

But now people are telling us that to “not see color” is bad. I just don’t understand. We were raised this way because my family is not racist. I have watched a bunch of YouTube videos on the subject. Each video has a slightly different take on the matter. I am left confused, as you might expect. I mean, it’s all just ideas in people’s minds, right? I want to make sure I understand. It’s not like growing a tomato plant! (I was just in the garden. lol) To me, this is all non-obvious.

All I know is this: Black people were segregated only a few generations ago! Can you believe that? Like, living Black people who are way older, even today, still alive, lived through it all! That blows my mind!

It really blows my mind. Another thing I am confused about is that when I was in school, the term was “equality” but now it’s “equity.” Again, I can’t seem to find any explanations. Did they just shorten the word because everything is abbreviated these days? (Dunkin Donuts = Dunkin, etc.) Or is there a difference between the two terms? I read what I could find and I was left feeling like equity was a part of equality. Like, they’re the same thing. Again, please direct me to videos or articles that are straightforward. Please?!

Any readers who would like to comment, please go ahead. I am woefully ignorant and I really don’t know who to ask. I just feel so out of the loop. I do not know how to go about learning all this without making a fool of myself. I feel like everyone else knows, and so asking someone the meaning would be embarrassing. At least I can admit this!

For that matter, what does it really mean when people say a word, and likewise have a certain intent of delivering a specific meaning to the listener? They seek to be understood! I want to help the Black community more, but because I am not quite in the know on the basics, I feel a bit nervous about getting involved with ANY form of advocacy or volunteer work.

You might think it’s hypocritical, because as a Latina, I should be helping my own people? But all people are my people. I’m a Catholic, and that’s how I see the world. And, trust me, I was not a straight-laced kid. I did my crazy things, too. Nothing I regret, but definitely what you might think a good Catholic girl wouldn’t be into. I was a maverick. A rebel. I also went to university and learned a lot on my own, reading all the time, besides the coursework.

Having ideas of “my people” just divides us all. Black people deserve help because they were set back by segregation in recent times. How you help is up to you. One day, this will all be behind us, but there are still people living who experienced segregation and it means something to try our best and make it better.

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CBD Massage and Biohacking

Thinking of having a CBD massage in New Jersey but unsure of whether it’s worth it. Also, I’m just not sure it’s for me. I have read a lot about CBD. It seems like it might be a bit of hype, but I’ve also read a few studies suggesting that it’s beneficial for people interested in bio-hacking. You know, biohacking? Like trying to change your body and mind? Like, using science? Okay, forget about it. I tried.

Anyway, I have had CBD in smokable form. It does not get you high. (It’s legal! gawd!) But it does make me feel relaxed. I think? It’s boring. Definitely not something people would abuse or use for “fun.” But it’s got qualities that can help a person feel better.

That doesn’t mean I will enjoy a CBD massage. I have no idea of what the effects might be. I am looking for an experience where I can relax and maybe get some pain relief. I’m a strong believer in essential oils, although I really haven’t done too much experimenting. Seriously, it’s been on my mind since I was 12. I suck. I really want to get into the essential oils thing. The next time I get a massage, I’m going to bring my own blend of oil. Organic, cold-pressed oils like sunflower or maybe almond. And, I want to blend in some exotic essential oils to amplify the healing effect.

If you think I’m too New Age, let me remind you that most of that is from Hinduism, a very Old Age way of life. Anyway, I am trepidatious about this all. Like, my sister keeps telling me, “What if you get a severe allergic reaction?” OK, Ashley may just have a point. I can still see her bright green eyes open sooo wide, framed by her short blonde hair. I must have been about 11. She was eight. I ate a strawberry. I snuck it. I knew I was allergic, but I loved the taste. I turned colors, she says to this day. She screamed, “Mommmmmmmmmmmm! Katie’s purple!” In true fact, we ended up in the ER. I was fine, but I get her point.

That’s really what’s held me back from applying essential oils topically. Or, ingesting them. If you read labels, you’ll see the processed foods we know and love use essential oils. My dream massage would be at home, with two therapists, and the oil would be some alchemical admixture I developed and let sit in moonlight for a month. I really am serious; you don’t know me! I am really going to do this. I just have to overcome the fear of allergies.

Maybe I should have my epi-pen handy, just in case? I mean, I know the allergens that cause me issues. But essential oils are just not what I’m allergic to. It’s corn, strawberries, dairy, soy, and that’s it. I don’t even get hay-fever. I feel like essential oils represent another plane of healing, distinct from vitamins, herbs, yoga, and everything else. God put all these plants here. The cosmic synchronicity assures us that the plants on the Earth may well do us good.

I know some plants are poisonous, but even many of those are beneficial and are medicinal in very small quantities. For my first experience, I’d definitely prefer a CBD massage in my own home. I think that it’s probably the best place to be, considering I may just bug out. I don’t want to embarrass myself, to be perfectly honest. I know CBD has many benefits but for me, it’s just another avenue of growth I’ve only checked out briefly. (There are a lot of things like that in my life.)

When seeking out a massage therapist for this, I am going to ask for a woman who is a shaman, perhaps someone in touch with the moon cycles. I know that sounds far-fetched. If you think an eight year old is writing this blog, I guess you’ve noticed that I’m just a kid at heart. What can I say? I am a raw and real person. That’s about it.

CBD Massages are definitely a thing. And, I know it’s going to add an extra fee to the bill. SO, we’ll see. Chances are, I probably won’t actually try this until 2035. I was always late getting into things, as a kid.

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Were People Dumb Once

I like watching old commercials. But these commercials make me wonder if people were stupid in the past. How can you claim a cigarette will freshen your breath? People in the 1960s must have been really out of it. Come to think of it, our progressive society has been a success.

Education taught generations how to get along, without paying much mind to color or religion. We learned how to do our own thing. In the ’60s, people were more like sheep. I guess this is all before LSD and the hippie generation? Is this what they were rebelling against? Being told cigarettes make you have fresh breath?

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Massages Can Be a Trip

Let me begin this blog entry by stating, for the record, that I am not some massage expert. I am just a woman who tries to stay at my peak of performance. And so, I employ many techniques to achieve those ends. One is massage therapy. I go for massages pretty often. But I have had my share of massage therapists from hell. In no particular order, I’m going to share them with you right now. If you’re looking for medical massage in New Jersey like I was, you will find these stories interesting. I have had some incredible massages, as well as some real shoulder shruggers.

The first experience I am going to get into was a massage from a woman LMT at a local place, not even a chain. Just a privately owned local day spa in one of New Jersey’s better towns. I had received a gift certificate for a one hour session from my Aunt. I think that was the last year all the aunts and uncles gave their nieces and nephews gifts. I think I was 25? Sad that time goes on. My grandparents were still living then! 😦

Anyway, this woman would not stop talking about her dining experience the previous evening, a lavish affair, apparently. Her husband had taken her out for her anniversary. I didn’t mind listening, but every time she’d get into a particular detail, her hands would stop moving. Not cool. First of all, I’m a vegan. But I don’t let on about that. You want to tell me how great the steak was? I’m not going to ruin it for you.

And, if talking about your husband, and how cute he looked makes you massage better, talk all day about the man and steaks! But it didn’t. My therapist could not walk and chew gum; she should have been just focusing on my massage. Oh, and she injured me. My shoulder was hurt for a week. I kid you not.

OK, another great memory. I was going for a medical massage at a local massage school. The therapist started at fifteen after the hour, and ended at 50 after the hour. Huh? That’s only a 35 minute massage! I paid for a full hour! I wrote in the review that we were required to do for the students that I was shorted. Was I ever given a gift certificate or even an apology? Nope. No wonder that massage school is gone! I looked on a Massage school directory to find a new place, but it seems many have gone under. COVID? The economy? Who knows!

Kind of sad, because there isn’t going to be enough therapists to help everyone needing help. It’s a really sad future we’re looking at. I wonder if the massage schools closing will affect the supply of massage therapists and thus send the price skyrocketing? I need deep tissue massage to feel well. Is this going to have to require a loan in the future?!

My third experience I’ll mention was not about a therapist. It was just a weird time I had. The massage was actually one of the top ten of my life. But it was at a spa with these awkward room dividers. Just a sliding curtain, kind of a heavy material. But you could hear everything in the next cubicle or whatever. Definitely not a feeling of personal space. There was this strange woman in the next area who wildly exclaimed how her tension in her groin was now gone. I guess it doesn’t sound so funny or odd right now. It was more how she said it. My therapist laughed. I laughed. I’m sure clients and LMTs all around the treatment room laughed. It was just so awkward. Cringy. The way the woman said it. Ewwwww.

In any case, medical massage is about as helpful as the therapist. There are tons of studies, however, that show that therapeutic massage, when performed properly, can have a plethora of positive health effects. In fact, there’s more proof of massage therapy’s efficacy than there is for chiropractic care or even acupuncture. Yet, I can get both services if I need to through insurance. I wish my insurer covered medical massage. I don’t exactly know if chiropractic care is even to be trusted. Jerking a person’s neck so quickly has to be questionable, at least for some patients, I would think.

Another strange experience involving massage? I was sprayed accidentally at work with malathion, a pesticide. I had a massage scheduled, and I went in for it, despite knowing that I had been exposed to a dangerous chemical. As the massage progressed, my body stiffened. It was the weirdest experience of my life. I sometimes wonder why chemicals like that are even used in agriculture any longer. There have to be safer alternatives.

OK, my fifth and final story. I was having a massage. It was one of those chain spas. I had gone three times. This was my fourth session. At session three I had been talked into a monthly membership. I really just bought it to make the person at the front desk stop asking. It was getting uncomfortable, plus I had just had a massage. They probably know it’s a good time to try hitting someone up for money. I also had to get home to go potty. The massages hadn’t been that great, but it was relatively cheap, and only a block from my office complex.

This time, it was the therapist doing the selling. When the session was done, she began, “These days we all need to stay hydrated. (pause) But often, that’s not enough. (pause) That’s why I use blah-blah brand oxygenated water” as she held the bottle in her hands like it were gold or some equally precious fine wine. Vanna White came to mind, as well as the scores of nameless women fawning over prizes on game shows running on daytime TV for housewives and people between jobs.

Huh? Was she really throwing a sales pitch at me while I lay bare under a thin sheet? Could this be happening?! Apparently, yes. OH NO, YOU’RE NOT. I’m trying to rest and relax, girl! She continued, “For the low, low price of only $95, I can get you a box of ten bottles of this amazing water. It’s a real exclusive!” (flashes teeth in the worst fake smile ever)Was I hearing this right? Was my massage therapist trying to sell me magical water at $10 a bottle? Could this really be happening? She sounded like one of those women from a 1950s commercial trying to peddle smokes to an unsuspecting audience.

I couldn’t help myself. I started laughing. Uncontrollably. I couldn’t stop. I literally wet myself. The therapist left the room with a few nasty words for me. Of course, I left a small tip. I had change from the deli, and so I gave her exactly seven cents. I also left a small piece of gum from my pocketbook. As well as some fine lint.

I tried cancelling my monthly service with the spa that day. They claimed it was cancelled. The woman at the front desk asked me if I was sure no less than five times. Apparently, she drank this special water, too, with amazing results!

She said my account was done. But it was not. Every month, for three months, they’d charge me. So, finally, I reported my credit card stolen and reported the charges as unauthorized. Little did the desk lady know I had the presence of mind to video her telling me my account was cancelled. My credit card company refunded me the entire amount.

I would say the name of the spa, but I don’t want to get sued for a million dollars. So, let’s just leave it at this. It’s one of the top five brands of day spas you find all over New Jersey. And generally, the massages SUCK. Oh, and they try to get you into a membership which has so many conditions on it, it’s a joke. Oh, and, they sell clients magic water. Think you have a clue? You’ve probably guessed correctly. You have a way better chance of getting it right than you do of getting a good massage there!

Banner Image by Heike Frohnhoff from Pixabay

Autoimmune Disorders

I suffer from lupus. My mom does also. So does my cousin. And another cousin of my Mom succumbed to scleroderma decades ago. I think it was the treatment that ultimately killed her. My Mom had been close with her since childhood. My Mom’s cousin’s husband was a saint. I mean for real. He was always going to church, like on days no one goes. And, he was just a quiet, kindly man. He wouldn’t say much, but he radiated such a positive vibe. He didn’t speak much English. His name was Jose Diego Alvarez. When I say he was a saint I actually mean that. Not some holy roller who says Jesus this Jesus that. An actual self-realized person. If you met him, you’d think he was just a really nice guy.

Banner Image by Bruno /Germany from Pixabay

Heredity

Where did I get my eyes? My eyes are bright green hazel and both my parents have brown eyes. But both also have the slightest bit of green. Could that be why? I found the greatest subReddit. Check it out to see some strange eyes I didn’t post my own. I am far too shy.

So far, I have only seen one pair of eyes like my own, and it was just a YouTube image search. Anyway, people have such an incredible diversity of eyes. It’s crazy. Of course, these are all the wildest eyes. People with wild eyes who seek attention. What about the other wild eyes, belonging to shy people?

There are probably many amazing eyes that don’t get on the Reddit forum, of people with more sensitivity and not out there seeking attention. Maybe the shy ones. Socially awkward? I wonder if they have distinctly different eyes from the attention-seekers. I bet yes.

Image by Bessi from Pixabay