Since it was my birthday and I had been walking
around town all day, I decide that I needed a massage (a legit one if that’s
what you’re thinking). I found a
nice-looking place not too far from the hotel and decided that it looked safe
enough. I went in and noticed that the
price was almost 5x what it was in Indonesia, but I figured that Singapore is
most definitely not Indonesia. I went
into the room and in walks this older lady – not exactly what I was hoping for,
but she looked like she had been massaging for decades. She started on my feet and poked around my
ankle and told me to let her know when I feel pain. I start to hurt and tell her that spot was
painful. She says, “OK,” and then
preceded to go at the pain with everything she had: fingers, knuckles, and
elbows. It was excruciating, and I
begged her to go softer.
Her: This good for you.
Me: Why
are you hurting me?
Her: You’ll be fine after.
Me: But I want to be fine now. Stop grinding
your knuckles into my bone.
Her: Haha, you’ll be fine.
She continued to inflict massive amounts on
pain onto my back and shoulders – areas that didn’t even hurt before. She had this amazing ability to find tender
areas and completely fuck me over. After
possibly the longest hour of my life, I headed out and noticed that there were quotes all over the walls of the place. “This
is not for the weak of spirit. They will
work out knots that you didn’t even know you had.” “Be prepared for the most
intense experience of you’re life.” Why
the hell do I not read stuff?? I went to
leave and the receptionist warns me: the areas that hurt during the massage
will be sore tomorrow. Awesome…exactly
what I needed.
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