A Little B-day Therapy

My birthday was a couple of days ago. It was pretty awesome. I had lunch with friends, dinner with family, watched a Madonna-themed Glee with one of my favorite people, and got a massage. It was pretty much the perfect day.

But when I say "massage," I'm not just talking about one from my awesome hubby. No, I got a real massage from someone called a massage therapist, as in, this is her full-time job. I have had one "professional" massage before, but it felt like it was from a hair stylist who took a few classes on the side. Now I know I was right.

A real massage therapist is amazing. First of all, that woman didn't just have magic fingers, she had seriously buff hands and forearms. She manipulated my joints and muscles, pulled on my head and pushed on my shoulders to work out the labyrinth of knots in my neck and upper back. It lasted an hour, but I could have laid there all day.

Afterward I just wanted a nap. And to schedule my next appointment.

I'm a pretty big proponent of therapy, you know, the kind where you work out all of your stuff and then go home and cry, but it eventually gets better?

I have now officially become a fan of massage therapy...where someone else works out all of your stuff and then you go home and take a nap.

Now I just need to figure out if my insurance will cover it...