Chicken Theighs

I got a massage a couple of days ago.  There’s a tourist part of Kuala Lumpur–Bukit Bintang–where masseurs stand outside on the street at night  and say “massage?” “massage?” and tourists say “No thanks,” “no,” “no,” “Um, okay.” So eventually I said, “Um, okay.”  I’m not made of stone, you know.

The first funny thing about the massage was that it was supposed to be a neck, back, shoulder massage, but like 70% of it was an ass massage. You know with meridians at play, who am I to say what a masseur is treating when he’s  rubbing my ass with his elbow? But, wow, that was a lot of time on my ass. It was perfect really, I don’t think I would have felt entitled to come in off the street looking for a cheap ass massage but I do hold a lot of tension in my ass-and the massage was really good and hard. It was possibly the best massage of my life.

So the masseur was an old Chinese guy and he had been perfectly silent up until he had me sit up on the table to help me adjust to the fact that this was going to end soon, and he was rubbing my hands and he told me my Meridians were good and aligned, and that it was good that I could take  a rough massage, (I could tell he looked down on people that can’t) and then he goes,

“how long have you had the problem with your legs?”

and I go, “What problem?”

And he goes, “They’re bulky…” he paused while he continued to rub my hand and think of another word, “and fluffy.”

He told me I should try something called exercise and not eating chicken for 90 days.  He said, “how many days do you think it takes before they kill a chicken?” and I said I didn’t know, but I was thinking more rubbing, less talking, and specifically less talking about slaughtering chickens. This had been–until the last five minutes of the massage–in contention for best massage of my life.  He said forty days and then  he made a gesture like he was slaughtering himself.  I said that was not enough days. I would have said anything he wanted.  He was rubbing my arms with the right amount of pressure for less than ten dollars.

He said if I didn’t stop eating chicken and start exercising I was going to have female problems, maybe not now, but later.  Doesn’t most of the population have female problems at one point or another?  I would put my money on “female problems” being something that 100% of the population will experience at some point.

I think I let him think that I was taking it under consideration, this “exercise” thing he was talking aobut and not eating chicken for 90 days. Then I tipped him and went back out onto the street. Now I feel a little bit mor self conscious about the bulk and fluffyness of my legs, but I do have a little bit less tension in my ass.

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One thought on “Chicken Theighs

  1. The “I’m not made of stone, you know.” line made me laugh, having met you in Lithuania. (I love the cryptic tone of what I just typed. I’m great.)

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