I went for an aromatherapy massage during the week. Not just because I love any pampering - but for a real reason - whiplash. I was at my wits end.
After several neck cracking visits to the chiropracter, the purchase of NASA developed special pillows (no joke) and a far bigger amount of painkillers that can be good for you, I was ready to try anything. One chiropracter passed me on to another, and the other didn’t look too hopeful either. So they recommended this masseuse to me as a complement to their treatment.
I thought it would be deep tissue massage and professional. My mistake - it wasn’t.
The massage was nice. HE was annoying - but that’s another story. One that belongs in a psychology report and not in a beauty blog. I don’t know if you’ve ever seen that David Walliams Little Britain character - the fey hotel owner who plays the flute to answer questions? Enough said.
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Once I got him to try to stop curing me of other vague things that might be wrong with me, and concentrate on my neck, we got along grand. The eastern music played softly in the background, I smelled a variety of oils from their little bottles, and picked the ones that I liked the best. Choosing the oils I did was my body’s instinctive healing response kicking in, he said. He mixed up a "blend", which did smell gorgeous and he used that for the massage.
Well anyway the neck’s still sore…but it’s better then it was. He may be an eejit, but he was good at the aul massage. And the little bottle of stuff I got to take away with me smells divine.
