Thursday, March 1, 2012

Mama Seuse

Today I cashed in on my Valentine's present and spent an hour and a half lying on a table while a small middle-aged woman (who is way stronger than she looks) dug deep into my muscles until I felt like a little baby made out of spongecake. While lying face down inhaling essence of lavender as Ma'  Seuse dug her elbow into my gluteus maximus I had many thoughts. One of which was the following:

Why it is that women are so often freaked out by the idea of going to a male gynecologist, but not so freaked out when going to a male masseuse?

Granted, I can totally understand a woman wanting the person who delivers her child to have some idea of what birthing a baby is like. I understand feeling more comfortable conversing with a woman about some more delicate and intimate lady-topics.... but the whole "Why would a Man wanna look at Vaginas all day?!?" question has got me confused. Like looking up people's noses or examining people's fungusey feet all day is any better. I mean if my options were to deal with new life on a daily basis or to treat all the nasty and depressing ailments that come afterward,  I'd probably wanna look at vaginas all day too. Seriously you guys, I've been to male gynos and well, its awkward and uncomfortable - and I don't think either of us particularly enjoy it.

I've also been to male masseuses, however, and I think here we have a different story. I mean, they get you naked and then rub you down with oil while playing soft, romantic music. This is very different than getting a cervical smear test! When seeing a male masseuse I am unable to completely relax because I am certain the guy is trying to sneak a peek or cop a feel or something. A male masseuse massages my butt or my inner groin and I'm all like "watch it dude." A Mama Seuse, however? She can rub me down wherever she wants and I could care less.

I once got a "massage" from a 250lb topless Arab woman in which she scrubbed my ENTIRE body, including some hard to reach places, until my skin shone bright as the morning. And I didn't bat an eye. Let me explain:

I was in Morocco and had been riding camels in the desert for several days and needed a bath. I was traveling at the time with my friend from home, his jealous Austrian girlfriend and some ditsy American girl I had picked up along the way so as not to be a third wheel. After our journey through the desert me and the ladies decided to check out the local bathhouse. We entered with no idea what to expect and were greeted by the bath attendant who handed us a towel and a glob of what we later realized was soap but what at the time looked like pepper jelly and smelled like fish. The Austrian understood enough french to at least think she had figured out that we were being asked if we wanted the "massage" option - in which we all nodded yes very eagerly. Let's just say riding a camel for two days doesn't leave your body in its most relaxed state.

So - We then are led into a large, steamy room completely covered in tile where various women are crouched in various corners bathing each other. It is in the exact center of this room where our Mama Seuse awaits - and she's the real deal. Huge woman with large sagging breasts wearing nothing but a pair of sagging, white cotton panties. We remove our clothes and then she points at me. She points at the floor. I lie down. She takes my fish soap from my hand and proceeds to scrub and scrub and move my body around in such a purposeful and assertive way that I feel more like a floor mat than a lady. I feel even less like a lady when she starts to wrinkle her nose in disgust at the dirt and sand and grime coming off of my skin in rolls.

But the thing is, I felt totally comfortable and cared for, like a young child being bathed by her Mom after a long day at the playground. By the end of my "massage" with Mama Seuse I was cleaner than the day I was born - a.k.a the day I was delivered from my mother's womb  - by no doubt, a man. Which is fine with me, as long as he didn't rub her down with oil in the process.

Anyway.... thats the poopy scoop!

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