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Holy Cow! Have I got a story for you!

Last weekend was our girl’s day at the Royatonic Spa in Royat. I expected it to be a little bit different since we are in France, but I never expected this…

So everything starts out normally, we get a robe and are sent to a changing room. I put on my robe and just leave my panties on, like I always do in the U.S. I don’t bother to change in the dressing room stall since I am no longer in middle school and mortified from my lack of boobs. When we finish changing, who walks in? A guy!? Apparently, guys and girls change in the same room. We were only about 30 seconds from extreme embarrassment! I decide then to use the dressing room stalls when we change again.

I am then led by my masseuse to the massage room and she gives me a pair of packaged panties. I think, ok, no big deal, I can wear these, she won’t see me in them anyway. When I unwrap the package I just stare at them. They look like something a person in a tribe in the jungle would wear and let me tell you that they aren’t made for a butt like mine. The panties were basically a rectangle attached to a piece of elastic and the rectangle was not near big enough. Oh, and did I say they were see through? Like an, I can tell if you wax or not, see through. But again, I think I can handle this, I’m going to be covered with a towel.

No, I’m sorry to say I was not going to be covered by a towel. My massage was sans towel the entire time. THE ENTIRE TIME! So first, I am on my stomach with only the see through panties on and the masseuse takes the towel off completely! Can you say awkward? All I can think is that this masseuse is checking out my big dimpled butt in the dental floss panties they gave me to wear. I mean, it’s kind of hard to enjoy a massage when you KNOW someone is looking at all your cellulite.

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So I am laying there mortified and she tells me to turn over. I do and wait for the towel to be placed across my chest. It doesn’t come. Hmmm….I think, I guess I can handle this although it is quite awkward. Now you ladies know what I am talking about when I say that when you get cold and get chills, your “headlights” may shine. Not a problem usually since most massages you are covered with a towel and they try to keep you warm, but apparently not in France. Now my masseuse was a girl, so I think that makes the headlight problem a little better. Not much, but slightly better. Either way it was extremely awkward. Definitely the most awkward massage I’ve had in my life.

Oh, but I’m not finished. Are you sitting down? Are you ready to hear more weirdness? The masseuse massaged the area between my boobs and just under my collarbone. I mean really? I don’t even know what to say.

And to top it all off, it wasn’t even a good massage. I felt like she took a husband and wife course to learn how to massage. There was no way she went to school for that. It was by far the worst massage I’ve ever had. But to be fair, I’m not sure if it was the type of massage I choose (you know the whole language barrier thing) or if she just wasn’t very good, but definitely the worst massage I’ve ever had (and I’m not even factoring in the mortifyingly nude parts).

I just want to forget this whole massage thing ever happened.

Oh and you are welcome for the picture.

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