I’m not going to lie to y’all, I like some of the finer things in life. Like massages and mini wine bottles. Because I’m fancy like that.
Except I may have ruined massages forever.
(Note: If you ever want to get a massage again then you might not want to read on because this is going to get weird.)
Before the wedding, I was treating myself to all kinds of fancy things like facials, body scrubs, and massages. About a week before the wedding I went to a nearby spa (which I absolutely love but I won’t say the name of because I don’t want to tarnish them with what I’m about to say next) and got a body scrub so my skin would glow and an extremely decadent two hour massage because….well, I feel like I don’t need a reason for that. Anyway, halfway through my equally relaxing and invigorating body scrub a thought occurred to me. THIS WOULD BE THE CLEVEREST FORM OF SERIAL MURDER EVER.
Think about it- you are completely at the massage therapists mercy. You are literally putty in their hands. They could totally get you all relaxed and then inject you with some sort of heart-stopping serum and then be like “Oh no, they were so relaxed they just drifted right out of this world! I must be too good of a massage therapist.” but really they’re just a serial killer with an ingenius modis operandi.
This is why I can’t have nice things.