Another Kind of Massage

i decided it was a good time and place to experience my first massage. i was on a beautiful beach, massages offered all around, and kerala is infamous for ayurveda. so i found a reputable place, and returned 1 1/2 hours later as scheduled, anxiously awaiting the medicinal oils. i had heard accounts of them and was mentally prepared, but that turned out to be a false confidence.

"take off clothes," requested the petite indian ayurvedic doctor preparing to massage me. she spoke enough english to communicate instructions.
"all of them?" i modestly asked. she nodded. i waited a moment for her to leave the premise or hide behind a curtain, or somehow dim the natural light shining through the windows for privacy. i realized she that was not in the plan. there i awkwardly stood, my nakedness unapologetically revealing itself awaiting further instruction.

"sit here." she motioned to the wooden bed. i sat suddenly aware of every imperfection on my body, but the masseuse professionally ignored my thoughts.
as she dumped the herbal oil concoction on the crown of my head, i could feel it trickle down my neck and the earthy, musty scent filled my nostrils. a hand motioned for me to lie back onto the table. i automatically crossed my arms over my body to try to dress it as best as i could, but the shield did not last long. my arms were removed from their intentional strategic placements, slathered with oil and massaged in a precise brisk pattern 1 by 1, moving to each section of the body, leaving little untouched. i closed my eyes to allow myself to relax. i had already committed. my only choice was to surrender my pride and modesty. it was silly to hold onto it.

before i knew it, the hour was up, and i was nearly asleep. i was relaxed. it was all good.