I’m calling on the Prayer Warriors, y’all. Saints, please put me on your prayer list. I’m sitting in an ePew placing my burdens on the iAltar. Y’all??? Why is it that every time I get a male masseuse, my 75 minute Deep Tissue Massage turns into a 45 minute Booty Roll Detox?
It rarely happens with female massage therapists. But, 95% of the male therapists I’ve had go straight to Booty Town and stay there like a matinée is playing. Why? I wear panties which I thought was the international sign for “don’t touch this” in the massage world. I just knew this time would be different. I know my booty is big. But it is big because of genetics…not because that’s where I carry my stress.
So, the massage begins and I’m laying face down on the massage table and things are going well. He starts with my upper back and shoulders. Great pressure. Perfect massage so far. Then he moves down my back. Still okay because I got my “Don’t Touch This” panties on so I’m cool. Next thing I know, he has pulled my panties down and started kneading my booty. Wait! What just happened? The last time someone pulled my panties down like this was when I got a whipping for something I probably didn’t do (I’m still fighting those bogus charges with my parents!).
After 10 minutes, I’m thinking he’s going to wrap it up and move on to the legs. Nope. He LEANS INTO THE BUTTOCKS WITH HIS ELBOW! Um, why is he kneading like I got booty knots? I thought you just got knots in your shoulders? Do I suffer from butt distress?
Sir? Why are you now doing a “wax on/wax off” motion? I’m going to need to shut down this production of Karate Kid – Bali. In fact, I’mma need you to slide them hands back up to my shoulders, k?
Lord, help a big booty sista out.
To be honest…the massage was wonderful (once he stopped focusing on my booty). I felt all kinds of relaxed afterwards. Once I got dressed and caught sight of my backside in the mirror, I’m pretty sure my booty said “Namaste.”