Today marked my second visit to the acupuncturist and the utter absurdity of what’s being perpetrated upon my person has finally sunk in. Laying there allowing, heck, PAYING, someone to poke me with needles?! I should be horrified; instead, I found it all quite amusing.
So, there I lay (Lay, laid? Whatever!) on a table barely wide enough for Barbie’s scrawny plastic ass, trying to resist the urge to yank out the quills and hit the door, when the lady came back in with a little black box (hey, isn’t American Airlines missing one of those?) and, God as my witness, jumper cables. What WAS this…Fifty Shades of Gray?!
“Hey, I shaved my legs for you this time!” I squeaked. Chuckle. Sigh. This was the extent of her reaction. What could I do, now that I was half-naked and quill-laden, to actually earn a jolt from J’s Juice Box? I’ll have to ask Mr. Owl the next time I see him…or is his area of expertise confined to the center of Tootsie Pops?
“You said your shoulder was frozen and tight, so we’ll try some e-stim on it. Tell me if it hurts” she replied.
Sweet baby Jesus, are you freaking kidding me? Apparently, since I’m sitting here typing this, all went well. If she strolls in next time with a cattle prod, all bets are off.
To top off the pin-pushing extravaganza, I was told my Qi is very low. My wonky westernized brain says Qi is either energy or really smelly foreign cheese. Anyhoo, because my Qi is non-compliant, I got a needle jab to the top of the old cranium for good measure. And I worked so hard on my ‘do today. Bad Qi, bad!
Miss J is also a firm believer in herbs and aromatherapy. Her herbs, she promised, were the ‘perfect blend for allergies and all-around good health’. It didn’t hurt that I wouldn’t have to sell a kidney to pay for them, either. Over lunch with Himself, I doled out two of the little gems which looked suspiciously like rabbit pellets or droppings depending on the light. Upon smelling them, I determined that the latter was far more likely…they smelled and tasted like celery which is practically the same thing as poo in my book. Himself said if I started hopping about or crapping on the carpet, I’d have to stay outside. Lovely man.
As for aromatherapy, I admit I’ve turned into something of a tramp for anything grapefruit, which is funny, because I hate them, too. I spritzed the crap out of the inside of my car while waiting in the pickup line for The Co-Defendants with a spray called ‘Pep Talk’ whose action was to ‘motivate and inspire positive thinking’. Hey, you can’t blame a mom for trying. I certainly felt motivated and inspired not to take any snarky crap this afternoon. Thus far, it’s working as they are positively quiet. I hope the ‘Pillow Potion’ lives up to its name tonight as I expect to sleep like the dead.
Next appointment’s on Wednesday.
Pray for no cattle prods.