It was the ultimate birthday splurge. I treated myself to an Indian Head and Neck Massage. I was long due for some therapy as my spine has felt the crunch of hours spent day after day hovering over my computer desk in a demonstration of the most unergonomic spread.My massage therapist, Emma, took one look at my neck and head, but started with a firm grip at the rolled-in shoulders. She then treaded slowly up my vertebrae with her knuckles, kneading through knots here and there until she hit my traps.
Here she dug. She dug until I had tears in my eyes, was clenching my fists and yelping in excrutiating pain.
"You will thank me for this later."
A line you never want to hear. Ever.
My confidence rested in her strong hold, however. I certainly wasn't going to argue with a woman who's pinky finger could put a dent in my sternum.
Emma had never worked on a back as tight as mine.
She asked if I was a bricklayer by day. There was only a faint hint of sarcasm in her voice.
The emotional and physical pain was excrutiating.
I made a resolution today - an early New Year's vow - to take care of my back come January. I plan to see an osteopath and check in with Emma every 6-8 weeks. I bought a new back pack for cycling into school and plan to start weight training and doing pilates once a week with a friend from uni. In the meantime, I will take careful consideration of the hand-made bricks in and around Nottingham. Wouldn't have wanted to be the one laying those down.
