We humans have a hard time feeling okay about our bodies and body functions.
On the massage therapy table, people often worry about their growling stomachs, gurgling intestines, unwanted body hair, unwashed hair, hair loss, perspiration, dry skin, oily skin, skin tags, body odor, snoring, drooling, dripping nose, burping, period leaks, and—of course—the dreaded gas.
Look over that list of worries.
Some are from typical aging, cancer
treatment, or illness. Some, like unwashed or unshaved areas, might signal a stressful life and not enough time. Or just not the highest priority.
Look again: How many might signal relaxation, letting go of the usual vigilance over one’s body?
All are just…normal. Living on the earth normal.
All are examples of bodies being bodies.
I get regular apologies from clients for the perceived crime of having a body that speaks up in some way. Each apology reminds me that our culture is built on the belief that bodies are all wrong; they must be improved and constrained.
I don’t buy it.
Every single body that walks through my door is perfect.
No exceptions.
I have massaged through hair and hair loss and unwashed hair. I have swabbed up drip, drool, and blood. Sweaty feet and palms are just…sweaty feet and palms. I barely register these things, much less remember them, and I have an industrial-strength washing machine that remembers nothing.
So there is no need to feel badly about your body, and certainly no need to feel self-conscious about noisy or olfactory signs of relaxation when relaxation is the point.
Honestly? Most of the time I don’t even notice.
Because of hearing loss, I am particularly oblivious to body noises. Add in the air filter whoosh and the playlist, and I probably won’t notice your body’s growls, gurgles, or bleats. You might not notice mine, either.
Which is fine, because I focus on what really matters: (1) Symptom relief; (2) Muscle relaxation; (3) Overall relaxation; (4) Improved movement, mood, and function...
And of course...
(5) Whatever brought you in for massage therapy.
Here in my room, instead of social constructs about bodies, we have real priorities.
Your priorities.
That said, there are no rules against apologizing. After all, it’s reflexive. If I do, in fact, hear your “Excuse me,” (big if), I’ll probably reply, “Mm-hmm,” and move on. You don’t need to dwell on it, either.
Earned oblivion.
I care more about massage therapy as your break, not only from arbitrary rules about bodies being seen and not heard, or heard but not smelled or whatever, but also a break from whatever hurts or worries you. If your neck or hip hurts, if you’re dealing with health concerns or an all-out crisis, if you’re caring for too many people on an empty tank, then massage therapy gives you a little time away from that. Pain relief. A reset for the days ahead.
I care far more about those things, about you, than about any of your body’s expressions of body-ness.
Wind happens.
Bodies are gonna body—especially when they finally let down a bit. It’s literally their job.
It’s my job to help bodies feel better.
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