Head and shoulders, knees and toes. I'm thinking of the simpler days when anatomy was a song and naps were a requirement. When the only pain you had to worry about was the scrape you received when the ground came up and smacked you. Pain that was washed, drenched in Bactine, and covered by the mighty band-aid, whose removal was usually more painful than the original bruise. But, it was only temporary.
Now it's all pain, all the time. Not really all the time, but it doesn't go away after the blood crusted scab disappears. It's pain from the incisions, pain in the knees from years of jogging, and a neck that feels like it someone is constantly trying to wring it. That is why God invented masseuses and massages, which is lately my personal drug of choice. I can't imagine any drug making me higher than what I feel like during and after a massage, which is probably the first sign of old age, but it's something I am not ashamed to admit.
I just had the most euphoric massage tonight and I am in such a mellow state of mind. All the knots hidden in my body have been untied, the toxins diluted and my brain tenderized to the point of actually wanting to go to sleep. Come to think of it, it's definitely a lot more quiet in my head, so hopefully all the voices have been put to sleep. This is a luxury I have to treat myself to, a lot more often. Luckily for me, my masseuse is a very good friend who is just starting her training, and I get to be the practice person. It's like winning the feel good lottery.
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