LOOKING/FEELING continued from page 8
is a euphemism for “We will use various strange electronic instruments, many of them with pointy points, before we apply ointments which may burn off your skin.” Um, sure.
The list of available procedures did nothing to further the attraction:
• Microdermabrasion − See also “Removal of all skin with sandpaper”
• Thermage − Microdermabrasion in a sauna?
• ProFractional − Isn’t AmateurFractional cheaper?
• Hyperhydrosis − I’d prefer my hydroses not be too hyper. Or is this code for waterboarding?
Seems to me like a lot of painful trouble just to look or feel younger. Another idea. Men, what do you think of massage? Exactly. Your fi rst thought is unclean. But your second thought
is...well...it’s just as unclean. I once suffered a hamstring pull while doing sprint work training for a marathon. This falls directly under the category of stupid activities for anyone over 50. I went to a physiotherapist who was recommended by fellow runners. They swore by the young woman’s skills in massaging me back to form, such as it was. A massage by a young woman. Sure. I’m game.
It was supposed to make me feel good. If not good, perhaps nearly okay. What I didn’t know was that she was a specialist in A.R.T., which sounds soft and artsy on the phone, as if she’ll paint still lifes on my muscles.
In fact, A.R.T. is Active Release Therapy, a form of massage whose
roots go back to Spanish Inquisition torturers. The masseuse digs fi ngers into your joints − fancifully called muscle insertion points − and keeps pressing til totally unrelated body parts, like your jaw, spring open and you emit sounds that resemble an elephant’s mating call. This isn’t pain so much as a sharp stabbing sensation, sort of like someone with the strength of Hulk Hogan has jabbed a javelin into your joints, then turns and twists it for fun. Yes, she was good at it. Yes,
it hurt. Yes, it helped. Yes, I felt better. No, I didn’t look better. Did I mention it hurt? Probably feeling or looking better
through artifi cial means will have to wait.
But for the sake of one’s self- esteem, perhaps it’s best to just go out at night.
Ottawa writer Richard Bercuson bravely never wears a mask in public.
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