Carol Perkins: A Mall Massage

The image in her mind was of a relaxing treatment, but what she endured was the worst 20 minutes of her life. -CM

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To read her next previous story click on "Stick Horses"

By Carol Perkins

A Mall Massage

We women are often searching for ways to alleviate stress, to feel better, to relax and to enjoy life. I have finally learned to do a few things for myself that I would have never done years ago. Now and then I have a manicure, pedicure, and even an occasional massage. Men are also joining in on these luxuries too. However, not all of my experiences are good ones.


Have you been to the mall and your feet were tired and your back ached and just ahead of you were men and women sitting in massage chairs, being pounded on and kneaded like dough? You thought, "That sure looks relaxing." For $15 you can have a twenty minute mall massage if you are at the right mall. Many airports also have massage areas where tired passengers with long waits can drift off for a few minutes in relaxation.

All you have to do is straddle a black massage chair, place your face in an open space where all you can see is the floor, and let the masseuse take over.

It was the worst 20 minutes of my life

Sounds relaxing, and it should be, but this might have been the worst twenty minutes that I have endured since I broke my little toe when I hung it in the leg of a chair.

"Oh, that looks like it would feel so good," I said to my friends as we passed by the massage area in the middle of the crowded mall.

"I'm not letting anyone rub on me," one of them said as she moved away from the area in disgust.

"Maybe it will help my shoulders," I replied. I often complain about my aching shoulders. I took my place in line while the others left me behind and went their way. The Chinese guy who was my masseuse never spoke to me but motioned to the chair, pointed to my shoes so I would know to removed them, and went to work as if I were a slab of meat on a stainless steel table.

Requirement to remove shoes must have been for self-defense

I didn't know why he wanted me to take off my shoes, but later I figured out that without my shoes, I wouldn't be able to hurt him as much if I kicked his shins, which I was inclined to do within the first two minutes.

Wham! He slapped me in the middle of the back and my head flew up and back down like a Jack In the Box. With his bent elbow, he dug deeply through my shirt and into my skin with circling motions and continued until he had moved from the upper back to the lower back ten times or more. Only a knife jabbing could have only felt worse.

Then he moved to my shoulders, which were already sore to touch. He grabbed each shoulder blade at the same time and kneaded them over and over until I writhed in pain, and then moved down my arms to the elbow. He held each arm and slung them around like rag dolls. I supposed this was to relax my muscles. I was inclined to hit him in one of the rotations.

Then he worked his way up my neck to my head, which he scratched as if he were surfing for ticks. When I thought he was nearing the finish line, he moved down to the lower back, which always hurts a little, and pounded on both sides with his fists. I felt the bruises rising. Boom! Boom! Bloom! I jumped. "Sorry," he said.

Wanted to say, 'You are killing me...you maniac'

"Sorry my eye," I wanted to say. "You are killing me. Let me up, you maniac!"

The grand finale' came with the scissors across the back routine. Chop, Chop, Chop. I was numb.

When he was finally finished, he handed me my shoes as I rose slowly to a sitting position, barely able to stand. I have never been in a fight, but I think this moment might have resembled the feeling of a defeat at the end of a knock out. I limped to a chair, eased down, slipped on my shoes, and hobbled away.

Although this is a booming business, I will find some other way to relax.

Maybe I'll slam my head in a car door.

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About the author: Carol (Sullivan) Perkins is a lifelong resident of Edmonton, KY, in Metcalfe County where she taught high school English at Metcalfe County High School until her recent retirement. She is a now a freelance writer. is married to Guy Perkins and they have two children: Carla Green (Mark) of Brentwood, TN and Jon Perkins (Beth) of Austin, TX and six grandchildren. Her latest book, Let's Talk About, is a collection of over 70 of her works, and she is presently working on the second book in this series. Carol's ties to Adair County go back to Breeding where her grandfather, Rufus Reece, and her grandmother Bettie Strange, began their married life and later moved to Metcalfe County. You may contact Carol at cperkins@scrtc.com or write at P.O. Box 134 Edmonton. If you would like a copy of her book, you can order through email. Watch for her next story on Sunday, April 26, 2009.

This story was posted on 2009-04-26 05:46:31

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