Man-Rub

Yesterday, Rhett got me a massage, which I always love.

When I walked in, to my surprise I was booked with a man masseuse. But I'm no prude, so I didn't really care that much. He was asking me about my chronic headaches and all that stuff, like I was ready to embark on a weekly regime of massage to cure my headaches. Me? Totally ready. My pocketbook? Not so much.

Then he says, "So would you like your buttocks massaged?"

I look surprised. Of course I want my buttocks massaged. (Is this too much information? I sometimes have a problem distinguishing. Oh, dear, it probably is.) But seriously, how can it be a full-body massage without buttocks-massaging?

I say, "Yes, I do. Why do you ask? Are there people who don't?"

He says, "Well, some people just really freak out when you touch their buttocks."

I laugh a little and say, "Hey, I have a male OB/GYN. I think there are more invasive problems to worry about, don't you?"

And then I went on to have a very lovely buttocks massage.

Did I say buttocks too many times in this post? There's just something endearing about that word, don't you think?