Me: Hi. I’d like to cancel my massage appointment. I have a schedule conflict.
Receptionist: Okay. Would you like to reschedule now for another time?
Me: Well, let me think…I’m trying to figure out when I’m going to be really stressed out…that would probably be a good time to come in, right?!
These are actual events, people. Hence, the continuation of the #Hashtag series: #FirstWorldProblems
In the pursuit of learning how to love myself, I made a very poor decision. And by very “poor” I mean, shoot, this is coming out of my personal checking account, not the family funds…I had better sell some jewelry or have a garage sale or sell Emily’s dog…
You see, I was given two massage gift certificates about 2 and a half years ago, right after I learned I was pregnant with Ryan. I used one last year some time, and the other a few months ago, finally.
It’s that second one that was the devil.
The little receptionist sales girl tried to “up sell” me. At first I held strong. Jason has a house rule that I’m not allowed to buy anything solicited at our front door. It was heart wrenching to turn down
Thin Mints Girl Scouts at first, but time, practice, and also learning my allergies has helped me gain the confidence I need to say, “No, thanks!”
Anyway, the massage wasn’t being sold to me at my front door. And by “massage” I mean: monthly massage membership package, blah, blah, blah, sign on this line.
You see, it’s a scam. A total conspiracy and this is how it works: Someone gets you a gift certificate, you know, as a gift. Then, you go in, have a cup of tea, head back to the dimly lit, perfectly heated room where you slip under snuggly heated blankies on a squishy, cushy massage bed, as you inhale relaxing aromatherapy inhalants and get an awesome, relaxing massage for an hour or so.
And this is the point in the story where you should get dressed, head back out to the receptionist, leave your gratuity at the front desk and WALK OUT THE FRONT DOOR, never to return.
In my relaxed state I don’t know what the little receptionist sales girl said to me, but I was relaxed and vulnerable and didn’t walk out the door. I thought to myself: I love getting massages. I only ever get them on vacation. It could be like a mini-vacation, once a month. Remember that one in Japan where that teeny tiny woman walked on your back? Or the one in Mexico where Julio…oh, never mind. They are relaxing. I only get them once a year. If I were to splurge on one thing a month, a massage would be a really good choice…it would show me that I love me…yeah, that’s the ticket. I’m learning how to love myself…
I don’t frequent Starbucks. I might get a pedicure once or twice a year, but now that I can reach my own toes, I prefer doing them myself when I have the time. I don’t recreationally shop. I don’t buy things off the Internet. I don’t pay for Botox or even get my hair cut more than twice a year. And, yes, this is a pathetic attempt to justify why I thought it was a good idea to sign up for a massage membership, of which I cannot back out of for a whole year! #FirstWorldProblems
Knowing I can’t back out of my agreement STRESSES ME OUT. Ironic. Maybe I should get a massage?
Do I realize I could use that money each month to save starving children? CLEARLY!
Do I realize I could use that money each month to end slave trafficking? YES!
Do I realize I could use that money each month to send underprivileged kids to school? UM, YEAH!
Do I realize what could be done with that money each month? We all have ideas of how it could be spent. I get it.
And this is ridiculous.
There is something to be said about SIMPLIFYING. DOWNSIZING. CREATING MARGIN. SAYING NO, EVEN TO THINGS THAT APPEAR TO BE GOOD.
I’m so disgusted with myself for making an emotional financial decision that I think I’ll give some of the massages away…if I’m allowed to.
Having the “membership” hanging over my head just isn’t as relaxing as it sounds.