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.



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12 comments:

  1. Bright-eyed5 August 2008 at 22:12

    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.

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  2. La Bête5 August 2008 at 22:23

    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.)

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  3. Annie5 August 2008 at 23:50

    You're a big tease.

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  4. Anonymous6 August 2008 at 00:31

    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!

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  5. Bright-eyed6 August 2008 at 00:46

    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!

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  6. La Bête6 August 2008 at 12:55

    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?

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  7. Anonymous6 August 2008 at 13:13

    Are you trying to make me jealous?

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  8. Bright-eyed6 August 2008 at 13:30

    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.

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  9. Stuart Galligan6 August 2008 at 14:20

    Are you sure it was a tennis ball?

    I've watched Scum.

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  10. La Bête6 August 2008 at 19:36

    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.

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  11. Anonymous6 August 2008 at 20:01

    Run (stockinball in hand) for the hills!

    WV:fknexs

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  12. Tanya Jones7 August 2008 at 18:56

    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)

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