Massage therapy is a serious thing. Total strangers entrust their therapist to lay judgmental hands on their vulnerable bodies. The therapist knows their body more intimately in a short space of time than even their children or lovers. There is trust here, and a cautious openness, and over all of it the desire to heal.
HA HA BUT SERIOUSLY there’s also farting and oversharing and figuring out how to deal with wigs.
These comx (‘mx’ being professional shorthand for massage. THE CLEVERNESS) aren’t here to shit on anyone’s massage parade. They’re here because massage is a world of people and people are ridiculous. Registered massage therapy isn’t taken as seriously as the more medicinal health care modalities like chiropractics or physiotherapy or acupuncture or pretty much any darn thing, so we try EXTRA HARD to SERIOUS OURSELVES UP. We can go super defensive when people talk about ‘real’ sciences, or we go down the hippie-dippy path and align ourselves with crystals and sleep in yogic positions.
MASSAGING STILL INVOLVES PEOPLE AND PEOPLE ARE RIDICULOUS.
The sooner we accept that, the sooner the healing can begin.
Brief spiel about my massage career: I graduated in 2007, I’ve primarily worked in spas and clinic-type spas (or spa-type clinics, take your pick) as well as doing some massage for office buildings.
In the interest of confidentiality, the comics aren’t going mention anyone’s name other than my own, won’t throw around the name of the place where it happened, or show any distinguishing characteristics that would identify a person or place. These comics aren’t drawn out of malice but a deep appreciation for absurdity. If it helps, please insert this musical sting in after each viewing.
Now let’s take the mysticism out of massage!