We’re back in Taiwan after eight weeks in the U.S. (Can you sense the smile on my face as I type?) Actually, we’ve been back for about two weeks now and I’ve been smiling pretty much the whole time. Have I ever mentioned how much I love living abroad and the interesting cultural experience that go along with expat life? Well, this blog post is going to be about one of those cultural experiences, and it’s a doozy, so hold on to your hat.
Tonight Jason and I went out with our friends Brandie and Jeremiah. We went to dinner and then Brandie and Jeremiah took us to one of their favorite massage places for a couple’s massage–something Jason and I have never done.
Taiwan is famous for massages. However, most of the massages done here are brutal. I’ve seen pictures of people who come out of massages with their backs covered in bruises–from top to bottom. I prefer not to pay to be bruised, so I hadn’t had a back massage here yet. However, I have had a few foot massages–and they’re brutal enough. Every time I’ve had one I have writhed in my seat from the pain. I’m convinced that the little Chinese women who perform the massages get a huge kick out of watching westerners in agony. After Jason’s first foot massage, he vowed he would never have another. I’ve had four now and I thought they would be less painful after the first couple. Not so.
The spa we went to tonight specialized in Thai massages, which means that the therapist manipulates the client’s body in interesting ways. In general, the experience wasn’t as brutal as I had expected; it was actually quite relaxing. Except for the part when my therapist manipulated my right shoulder into a position where I was pretty sure she was going to break my arm. I kept listening for the snap of breaking bone. No snap, but my eyes did roll back into my head far enough to see brain matter.
But that’s not the part of the massage that will go down into infamy. Here goes: So about half way into the massage, the therapist had me turn over onto my back. She then worked on the front of my feet, legs, arms, shoulders, etc. This therapist was very thorough. She massaged nooks and crannies that I didn’t realize I even had. At one point she started massaging my stomach, which I didn’t particularly like. I prefer to keep my belly fat to myself. But then, after massaging my belly, she removed the towel off the northern portion of my torso and started massaging my modular chestal region. Yep, yep, yep. It was exactly what you are right now imagining.
Now, I have to stop right here and say that it is incredibly painful to have one’s modular chestal region massaged–but not in ways that one might expect. In my case, it was the inside of my mouth that was experiencing incredible pain–from my teeth biting down on the inside of my cheeks to stop me from bursting out laughing (yes, I am that immature)! My eyes were watering and my teeth were drawing blood in my attempt to contain myself.
A minute or so later I heard Jason snoring next to me, completely oblivious to what had just gone on in the room. Later, when we were finished and I asked the other three if they had the same experiences, they all said no. I was the only one who got the “special” treatment. I’m just really, really, really, really glad that Jeremiah said no when the lady first asked if we wanted to do all four of our massages in the same room.
So I guess that from now on, if I’m ever asked, I will have to admit that yes, I have indeed had a boob job.