Tuesday, 5 August 2008

Back and Forth

I went back to the chiropractor this afternoon having more or less decided that it would be my last session. I know I was told at the beginning of the first session that there were no quick-fix cures, but even so, after two full sessions, I was starting to lose faith. Plus, it’s really back-breakingly expensive.

Then, as I was waiting to be seen, I noticed a certificate on the wall of the reception. It belonged to another of the chiropractors at the same practice. It was a framed diploma. In aromatherapy. Now I don’t know about you – although I can guess, because you come across as pretty cynical on the whole – but whenever I hear the word ‘aromatherapy’, I smell a rat. A large, new age rat with chimes for teeth and a trail of crystals and 'healing stones' oozing out of its puckered rear end. For me, it’s a dirty great sham. The champagne of shams. Snake oil, essentially. Tangerine and lavender – no matter how pleasant on the olfactory neurons – will not cure cancer and will not bring about peace in the Middle East.

So that diploma put the nail in the coffin. I had decided. No more chiropractic. Next time I would try osteopathy.

But then I went into that little room with Naomi and I stripped down to my pants and lay on the table – Naomi asks me just to take my top off but I insist on stripping down to my pants – and by the end of half an hour of pummelling and manipulating, I had decided to go back.

I don’t know – no one knows – but... Naomi could be The One.

I know it sounds silly, but something in the way she tenderly holds my neck, just before she violently jerks it till it goes ‘click’; something in the way this afternoon her hand gently and quite unnecessarily brushed my calf; something in the way she offered me a piece of her underwear at the end of today’s session… Well, it might have been hers. A stocking, or a sheer sock of some kind. With a tennis ball in it…

I don’t know. No one knows. You know? But let’s face it, I am a giant lactic acidic knot of love and there is every possibility that she wants me.

Speaking of which, I must tell you about Morag. Tomorrow. If at all possible.

Hope you're well. Until soon.

Share on Facebook! Digg this


Bright-eyed said...

Good evening! Only found your blog a few days ago, and have been avidly following your life in a ridiculously voyeuristic way since... I'm only up to May thus far - and as such am unaware of what has or happened in the last couple of months (until I catch up properly).

Anyhow, I wanted to post my first comment and let you know that I am hooked! You've had me in tears and in stitches through sharing some of the most intimate details of your life - for that I thank you.

Keep it up, and btw I've just filled in that blog questionaire from May (if you're still collecting data).

PS. Interestingly enough I live no more than 3/4 miles from you, small world.

La Bête said...

Thank you very much. And hello. By the way, is that three to four miles away, or three quarters of a mile? If it is the latter, I hope you won't be offended if become a little afraid. Not because you're so close, but because you're so accurate. (And so close.)

Annie said...

You're a big tease.

Selena said...

Oh, yeah! She wants you, she wants you so badly.

She gave you, "A stocking, or a sheer sock of some kind. With a tennis ball in it…", Umm- I'm not 100% sure, but I think this means you're married in Chiropractlandia.

You should move into her place immediately!

Bright-eyed said...

Oops - it does indeed appear to be three quarters, but I can assure you that I meant three to four miles.

(Although now I am reading you moved in with keith in Peckham, which has added another mile or two)

Panic over, safety assured!

La Bête said...

You should move into her place immediately!

I might just turn up at the next appointment with a packed suitcase. That'd show her.

Hey, bright-eyed, do you know anything about backs?

Fermina said...

Are you trying to make me jealous?

Bright-eyed said...

Backs eh?

Well I could wax lyrical about the vertebral coloumn, its bony landmarks and the associated physiology - however, practical advice is something I may only have after another 3 years of med school... sorry!

I would say beware of chiropractors and the like, when it comes to your spine, you can't be too careful. The thought of someone with a dubious qualification cracking it into/out of place worries me. Yet I bet some people swear by it.

Coffee Boy said...

Are you sure it was a tennis ball?

I've watched Scum.

La Bête said...

Fermina. Yes.

Bright-Eyed. Wax lyrical about the vertebral coloumn! Wax lyrical about the vertebral coloumn!

Coffee-Boy. It's for massage. Honest. Although if anyone asks, I am the Daddy round here.

Anonymous said...

Run (stockinball in hand) for the hills!


Tanya Jones said...

I'd advise the attention of an osteopath, but if you're getting off on the attention, your back seems a small sacrifice.

(just kidding)