2003-11-24 @ 2:06 p.m.
I see naked people

Well, I was thinking today...what if I whipped up a tee-shirt that I could wear to the class that says "I See Naked People". You know, kinda a'la "Sixth Sense". Wouldn't that be cool?

Um...No? I would look really stupid? My coolness factor would drop 3000 points? Ok. It was just an idea.

But I was also thinking I could give one to Married Guy. He's a masseuse after all. He gets to see naked people all day. Of course he would probably have to wear it under his official company shirt. Wouldn't want to freak anyone out or anything. You know, that blatant sexual harassment factor and all.

But can you imagine going to work everyday and seeing nothing but naked people? I wonder what that's like. Of course you don't really see the naughty bits. I've always wanted to ask him how often people flash him, but have never had the nerve to. For all the bravado I display here, I'm really the Virgin Mary in person.

I accidentally flashed Married Guy once during a massage. And boy was it an accident. It was before I started getting a little freer recently. It was back in the stone age, when I used to have a death grip on the edge of the sheet every time I moved.

I was flipping over from my back to my front and in flipping the sheet got caught on the edge of the table and suddenly I was aware that there was a cool breeze wafting over my left breast.

Now Married Guy has probably seen at least 23,000 breasts in his lifetime. At least. So seeing mine was probably be no big thing, but I was so freaked out that I nearly broke into a panic attack.

Did he see it? Didn't he see it? Did he think I did that on purpose? I was totally freaked out. I was hot. I was cold. My heart was racing. Fruck.

He never did say anything and I didn't either (which is the very core of our relationship --don't say anything EVER about anything --its better that way).

But I was totally wasted the rest of the day. I felt like I had dropped my drawers in front of Congress or something.

So I went in for my massage this morning. Was in total pain, but that didn't stop me from looking my goddess best. I really like that song, "Stacy's Mom", and am always happy when it comes on when I'm going somewhere. It kind of celebrates the sexiness of older women in the eyes of younger men...and is very empowering for us 40 something girls...even if we're not Moms. So that was playing on the way down there.

I did look good, and I know Married Guy thought so too. Sometimes he'll be generous with the words and sometimes not. Today was a "not". But at least I KNEW I had it going on.

I did emphasize once he got into the massage room that I was hurting in my butt and my right inner thigh. He worked on my butt for quite a while and it felt nice, despite the pain.

But you know what? He totally blew off my thigh. I mean totally. And I mentioned it 3-4 times during the massage...like oww, that thigh is really hurting...I'm having a hard time walking with the pain in my thigh...I have to lay with a pillow between my legs when I'm on the couch, because of my I-N-N-E-R T-H-I-G-H PAIN. He didn't do anything with it. Nothing.

And I'm a little pissed. If you take your car to a garage for new tires and rotors, and they only put on 3 tires and forget the rotors, you might be a little upset.

But this is a touchy subject. He's sensitive. I earn these massages, but he's also giving up a $30 time slot for me. If I start bitching about quality, he'd probably tell me to fuck off and that would be the end of the massage gravy train.

And unfortunately, I am in love with this geek and I don't want to do anything to disrupt this arrangement. I like having his hands on me under any circumstances but until I find a worthy replacement, I guess I just have to live with these memory lapses and get over myself...right?

So, here I sit, with a thigh that feels like I have a bullet wound in it, but at least I can say I got naked with Married Guy today.

Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty