I’ll never forget the very first client I massaged, but I wish I could. If I didn’t have so much time and money invested in my massage education I would have walked out before I even touched the crazy woman who walked into the office that day. I was all by myself on a Saturday without a receptionist, the other massage therapist I worked with, or the chiropractor I worked for. I arrived twenty minutes before her scheduled appointment because I was ready to finally start my career!
I waited behind our front desk, and waited, and waited. Fifteen minutes into her scheduled time I heard a rumble and looked out the picture window just in time to see my client fly into our parking lot driving a van too big for her tiny body; she could barely see over the steering wheel. She climbed out of the driver’s seat like she was on a ladder. The door was blocking most of her body, leaving only her right foot in sight as it searched for the ground below; it made contact and then the left one followed. I was able to get a better look at her while she walked across the front of the van to the passenger side. I’d never seen anyone look so sloppy, her clothes hanging off of her thin body and stringy hair hanging from her head. I had no idea they made bags as big as the one she had on her shoulder; the bottom of it met the middle of her shin. She marched into the office with a purpose.
“I’m gonna piss down my leg this very second if I don’t get to a toilet!” she yelled in what sounded like an English accent.
On her way to the bathroom she dropped her bag, belongings now scattered everywhere. She also left the smell of patchouli lingering in the air. Ten minutes later she zoomed out of the bathroom as fast as she came into the office.
“Man, oh, man! I sit to pee, and those beans just snuck up on me! Are you a vegan? You look like one – you’re too smart to eat meat, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Have you had a massage before?” I asked her, skipping over her question.
“Of course! In fact, I used to see that other therapist you work with, but I don’t ever want to see her again – rubbed me the wrong way! Let’s see if you make the cut, and if you do, I’ll be yours for life!” she boasted.
“Fantastic,” I said, trying hard to hold back tears. I couldn’t imagine this woman being the type of client anyone would look forward to.
She followed me to the massage room, and as I tried to tell her how to prepare for the massage she kicked me out, claiming she knew the drill. As I walked away I told myself I would stay positive about my first experience on the job, but my personal pep talk didn’t last long. The door of her room opened, and unfortunately, I turned around. There she was, standing in front of me baring every inch of her naked, sagging body.
“What are you doing?!” I asked her, each word louder than the last.
“Those beans are back!” she screamed, then she turned around – fast – and made her way to the bathroom. Each step she took was accompanied by a musical toot, and as I stood and watched her move to her gassy symphony, I made a mental note never to run anywhere while completely naked. There were things shaking on her that no one should have to witness.
Twenty minutes later I finally had her on the table with only a few minutes left of the scheduled appointment time, and after informing her of this she begged me to go over into the next hour, promising to pay extra. I agreed because she was my only client that day and I was a newbie – I needed all the hours I could get.
We were now into the second hour, and I began massaging her arm as she was lying on her stomach. I moved her arm away from her body and at the same time that I saw the harriest arm pit in the world, I smelled a combination of dirty human, and even more patchouli than when she first walked in. I looked up and started to take deep breaths in and out. I had a feeling she hadn’t taken a shower since 1973. I finished her arm and started on the other side of her back, and as soon as I did she spoke.
“Now, my bum has really been a hurtin’ on that side. Get in that cheek with your elbow, will ya? Ha! Get it? I’m gonna let you get cheeky!” she was quite amused at her little joke.
“Yeah, thanks for letting me, uh, get in there,” I said, wondering if she noted the lack of excitement in my voice.
Damn it. I knew all about the beans she had at lunch, and I did not want to go anywhere near her “bum”. She asked me again with more persistence after I pretended not to hear her the first time. She probably thought I was deaf as much as I ignored her comments. I had no choice – I was goin’ in. I moved toward her hip slowly, taking my time to get there, and as I inched closer she started rocking her body from left to right, bringing one side of her body off of the table, and then the other. I had no idea what she was doing so I stood up, crossed my arms and leaned against the wall to try to figure it out.
“What are you doing? I can’t keep my balance if you can’t keep still,” I said.
“What do you mean? I’m not doing a thing.” she replied.
“Just stop moving because I can’t work like that!” I was trying hard not to yell, but I was annoyed.
She said nothing, but stopped the rocking immediately after my mini outburst. I made my way down to her hip area, and as soon as I applied the first bit of pressure she passed gas right in my face. There was such an offensive smell that filled the room, but my client was anything but offended.
“See that?” she asked.
“No, but I heard it and I smell it,” I answered.
“You’re workin’ my digestive system. I love comin’ here after a meal because all of the-”
“Beans?,” I cut her off.
“Yes! How did you know?” she sounded ecstatic.
“Lucky guess.”
Still lying on her stomach, it was time to massage her legs. When I lifted the sheet I did a double take because they were as hairy as my husband’s. I made sure to triple the amount of oil I usually used for smooth extremities, and after I thought I had enough I made the first stroke up toward her buttocks. I was expecting it to be a smooth, gliding stroke, but I was stopped short just before I got to the back of the knee. I created so much friction I thought for sure there would be a trail of smoke behind my now red, raw palms. I got more oil and tried again. Much better.
I was using proper body mechanics so my upper body was close to her legs as I worked, being careful not to bend at my waist. As I was working on her upper leg I must have hit a sensitive spot because all at once she yelped as her knee bent and her lower leg came toward me. She kicked me in my temple with the heel of her foot.
“What the hell lady?” I asked her, standing up and backing away.
“Oh! You hit a spot and my goodness! My reflexes sure are in check though!,” she answered me.
My head hurt, I was exhausted, and the last thing I wanted to do was touch her again. I told her the massage was over, and I explained I would meet her up front as I walked out of the room. She began to protest, but I didn’t wait around to hear anything else she had to say because I knew I might say something I’d regret. I went to the bathroom to wash the oily hair off and when I looked in the mirror I saw blood coming from the side of my head. Her feet must have been so callused they cut me! I cleaned up, grabbed my purse, and marched up to the check out desk to find my client waiting for me with her huge bag hanging from one shoulder. I had a feeling she was going to let me have it after walking out of the room so suddenly.
“You!” she shouted.
“I know, I know, I-“, I was cut off.
“That was the best massage I’ve ever had! I’d like to come back next week!” she exclaimed.
I decided right then that I would have rather been yelled at. I was so tired! This woman was like watching a two-year old, in fact, my daughter was two and she was better behaved! As I said before, I was new and I needed all the clients I could get so I really had no choice.
“When would you like to come back in?” I asked.
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Five years later this client is still on my schedule. She acts the same way exact way today as she did when she came in for the first time. I always remember to take a Valium before I massage her or she ends up doing or saying something to upset me. I will admit, she has given me a lot to write about!