Why You Shouldn’t Have a Massage in Colombia

Why You Shouldn’t Have a Massage in Colombia

A couple of weeks ago I was feeling a little tightly wound, due to my very stressful life of working 15 hours a week and having too many leisurely afternoon naps (I know I’m awful, please don’t hate me). So, I decided to ‘splurge’ and treat myself to a massage. I say ‘splurge’ because it was only £12.50 for an hour-long full body massage. But sadly it turns out that you get what you pay for (who knew that was a thing), and I spent most of the hour giggling uncomfortably.

The lols began the second I arrived, when the masseuse answered the door and said “oh, you’re lucky I’m here, I forgot you were coming”. Oh, ok. Cool. So I was forced to wait outside for 20 minutes while the sweet but forgetful lady prepared the room and changed into her massage outfit.

Once she was ready I was shown in and we talked for a couple of minutes, discussing what kind of massage I wanted. As our chatting continued it slowly started to dawn on me that she had no intention of leaving the room for me to get undressed and cover my modesty/arse with a towel. So, while maintaining eye contact and a steady stream of small talk, I took off my shoes and socks, then my dress, then my bra. I had to shuffle past the sweet Colombian señorita to hang my clothes up, then shuffle back and clamber up onto the bed. From that single clambering manoeuvre, that poor woman found out all there is to know about me.

And so, after a weird start, it was time for the massage to commence. It began as it should, and for the first few minutes I felt myself drift into a tranquil state of mega-zen. But then, things got silly.

There are certain parts of my body that tickle intensely. I refer to them as my giblets, as these parts are in my stomach and back area where I think my organs live (who truly knows where their organs live), and every time she touched one of these parts my body involuntarily jumped a country mile. I felt kind of awkward because I’m English and I always feel awkward, so I hastily apologised for the involuntary reaction I was having to her touch. In response, Ms Masseuse said “why don’t you quickly meditate so it doesn’t bother you”. Huh? What? Quickly meditate? Don’t people devote their entire lives to learning to meditate? How am I supposed to just know how to do it? Also, I’m currently in an unpleasant tickle torture scenario, how can I possibly fall into a deep meditative state?

About twenty minutes later she suddenly stopped massaging and walked away from me. I poked my head out of the face hole in the massage bed to see what had happened, and watched helplessly as she proceeded to faff around with her phone. I asked if everything was ok, and she told me that she was just changing the music. Odd timing, but fair enough. It’s possible that this was the first time she’d ever used her phone though, because the next thing I heard was local radio blaring out at an impossibly high volume. At this point, any tiny chance I’d had of meditating was lost, and I popped my face back in the hole for some secret giggling while my masseuse panicked and tried to figure out how to stop the audio assault.

The final ‘incident’ occurred towards the end of the hour when the poor lady asked me to turn onto my back so she could rub my belly. Once I’d turned over she pulled the towel down to my waist and put what could only be described as a hankie over my tits. But, due to the tremendous size of my bust, this slip of fabric was nowhere near capable of containing it. By this point I was no longer capable of giggling discreetly, and I cracked up at the ridiculous sight of my nipples protruding from either side of that tiny wash cloth. After more than a minute of flashing and laughing, she finally found a more suitable towel and covered me up before continuing on with what had to have been the weirdest hour of both our weeks.

After this experience I have been left with many questions: is this what it’s always like to get a massage in Colombia? Is it normal to laugh or not? Can people really meditate on demand? How many times do people tend to flash their masseuse in the space of an hour?

 

Have you ever had a ‘surprising’ experience during a massage? Tell me all about it in the comments, por favour.

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