Tuesdays are my early mornings at work and I’ve become pretty good buddies with a lot of our early morning crew. You know, the ones that get up religiously every morning (or at least a few times a week) to work out before the day gets away from them? They’re a dedicated bunch.
Anyway, in a short goodbye chat on her way out the door, a lady asked me what my plans were for the rest of the day. I answered with a bunch of things I “had” to do and then that I also had a massage scheduled.
“Lucky you,” she said.
At first I just went on about my biznass but later, while laying on my yoga mat, I thought, “am I really that lucky?” Did that massage just land on my schedule after I won it in some contest? Is someone kneading knots out of my back and neck from leaning over a computer all day, most days, a real stroke of luck?
I’m guessing you already know I am going to answer with a resounding NO.
I am sure this woman never knew when she said that that she was going to start some one-sided argument on the internet (because let’s be real, no one is really arguing with me here). I have never thought of a massage as some amazing luxury that I must “deserve” in order to receive, but especially now.
I happen to have the most amazing massage therapist who allows me to barf all of my crazy ideas and revelations all over her treatment room. She treats me with whatever oil or stone or crystal or cup she deems fit and I leave there on cloud nine every single time. Sometimes more energized, other times ready for bed. Either way, amazing.*
The only lucky part about this is that the stars aligned so I happen to work in the same building and met her on a random day when she was picking up her mail. A beautiful relationship began there and I intend to keep it for as long as she’ll put up with me.
But the rest is not luck. I make time and save money for it. When I can’t do it during the day, I get my kids taken care of (like I did today) and go. And I don’t feel guilty. I know I’m a better mom, wife, um, basically human, because of it. Why would I deprive myself of that because there’s some silly socially acceptable notion it’s a luxury only for the lucky few? The answer is I don’t.
It’s called self-care people. And it’s not a luxury, it’s a necessity.
Now, let’s get down to the real question at hand? How did that first drink taste?
I don’t know. I haven’t had it yet. Not for any reason in particular. Just no reason in particular to have one. Or seven.
See, all that needless worrying for nothing. Oh the tangled webs we weave.
I promise you’ll be the first to know when I have one. 😉
*If you need her name, please contact me…I don’t need her getting too busy I can’t get in.