“There is no flesh to massage, ma” drones the lady who towers above me like a WWF wrestler, in response to my muffled yelps. I look at her and try to figure out why I had let the pretty lady with the ‘too- long- to be- true’ eyelashes, sweet talk me into accepting the ‘too- good- to be- true’ combo offer, at a branded salon, that has recently opened in my neighborhood.
I nod at the masseur apologetically, vowing to order a double cheese burger for dinner. The lady having given up hope has moved on to my head and is the process of kneading it, with every ounce of energy that she possesses. I protest feebly, telling her that I am prone to migraine attacks, upon which she claims to have the perfect technique to cure it. Before I can resist, she yanks my head to one side and begins hammering it with her fingers. I may have discovered some additional stars in the Milky Way, during those five minutes.
Having being pounded into a semi delirious state, I find myself being led to the’ facial area’, where I am assured (by the same pretty lady with ‘too- long- to be- true’ eyelashes) that I will glow like a 100 watts bulb, by the end of the procedure. I lie down and close my eyes, determined to enjoy at least one procedure of this ‘super value combo offer’.
To give her due credit, this masseur did have fingers that were magical, and I was drifting into a blissful slumber when suddenly, her colleague drops in. For the rest of the session, I am subjected to a barrage of information about the masseur’s mother in law so much so, that i can qualify to be her official biographer (if her mother in law ever needs one)
I stumble out (hopefully glowing like a 100 watt bulb) for the last service, pedicure. I am asked to relax, as the pedicurist immerses my leg into a basin of scalding water. I yank my legs out and am ready to bring out my choicest profanities, when I am served tea along with a glossy magazine.
Now, I am a firm believer in “where there is tea, there is hope” saying. Soon, I am swooning over Hrithik Roshan in the magazine and enjoying my spell of sereni’tea’, when the pedicurist proudly shows me my toe nails, painted a vicious neon red. I manage to ask for the bill and run out, before I give a whole new meaning to the term, ‘beauty and the beast.’
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