Under the slimy hands of the wicked reflexologist…

Monday, August 22, 2005

Few days later I have back-aches and I suffered. Swear! I suffered severely!

AND I’M UNDER THE MERCY OF THE SLIMY-HANDED REFLEXOLOGIST…

I could not do but to scream ‘don’t kill me!’ and bear her hands going thru my back back and forth; each hand might weigh 10 tons each I think, coz it hurts when they get over you.
Every stroke means another minute of painstaking and inexorable deeply heavy massage from her icky hands. She’s… taking the pain away with another pain. And it really hurts. I couldn’t quite think how the pain goes away as her slogan says if her hands are that heavy! I can’t think of any other adjective that can complement her massage but hurting. A couple of hours of backbreaking massage… whew I’m grateful, my bones are still intact. I can smell the stench of menthol and eucalyptus in my skin. I feel like a koala is after me then. (Koalas eat EUCALYPTUS.)

Well, anyways, my backaches are gone, so I’m likewise thankful. (Gotta wash, a koala might eat me ya know!)