Dances with Hair Plugs

The year was 2014 and I was working for a mobile massage company here in the valley. I was called out to do a late night couples massage at the W hotel in Old town Scottsdale.

I waited for “Ben” the other therapist to arrive. Once he got there we went up to the room. The Mr. and his little lady companion had us set up on the balcony of their room. Ben took on little lady who was in her 20s. I had the Mr. companion who was around 40.

We started the 90 minute session and right out of the gate the Mr. tells me to not work around his neck or hairline. He just had fresh hair implants put in and he wanted them to “take”. I’m intrigued and now I cant stop wondering how this process happens. Meanwhile it has somehow disrupted my typical massage flow since he’s thrown up a “Do not Disturb Sign” on his upper region.

Extra time on the Mr.’s feet and that’s what I did ….This gave me the perfect view to watch Ben work his magic. The lady friend turned into some sort of rag doll on his table. Silly Putty in Ben’s hands. As the soothing sounds came out of the radio It seemed Ben had this choreographed dance he did with her appendages and all parts inbetween. I never saw anything like this and I wanted to be lady friend on that table. But I will say this, I won’t forget that dance between lady ragdoll and Ben. It reminds me how we need to flow freely in our life. It’s a dance between us and all the others we encounter. How do we make it effortless? How do we choreograph such a beautiful intriguing experience without hesitation or throwing up a sign because we are fearful our roots may just be exposed.

Life lessons as we dance with hair plugs.

"Moan"-A- Lisa

The year was 1998. I was working my first official massage job at a chiropractors office in Ohio.

I had a client that was an hour long massage that I saw every week. She was a quiet little lady named Dottie. Dottie liked a deeper massage and I was anxious to deliver. I remember the first massage with her like it was yesterday. Although Dottie was a quiet conversationalist she spoke a different language during her massage. As I started to work on Dottie she started the conversation. It wasn’t one of the English language but that of long drawn out deep moans. Was I hurting her? I checked in. No. She was fine. This became a normal during her massage and I expected this release every week when I saw her.

Fast forward 16 or so years to the beginning of my Mobile Massage era here in AZ. I was working for a company that sent me out to a man that lived pretty far north of the city. He seemed nice enough. He let me in to set up and explained to me that he holds tension in his neck and back from the masonry work he does.

He smelled of stale smoke and was a man of few words. I didn’t feel uneasy, just aware of my surroundings. I started the massage and he quickly added that he may moan during the massage. “Cool “ I thought. I have experience with that from early on in my career. “How bad could it be?”

I started to move into the areas of concern and like he promised the moaning began. It was fine at first. It was a low constant grumble. As we turned the corner on about 15 minutes into the massage it got louder. “Oh man! He wasn’t kidding about it” My head was trying to grasp all of this . At any moment he would surely fall asleep and stop. NOPE! Even when I thought he would doze off its like he realized what was happening and snapped out of his sleep phase and right back into moansville again. 90 minutes was the length of the moan-a-thon. By the end of the session my ears were ringing and my head was declaring it to PLEASE STOP!

I worked with the man for several sessions and each time it was a consistent same as day 1.

I hold zero judgement on how anybody releases during a massage. We are all justified in how we

choose to “let go”

I’ve been moaned on, farted on, kicked, cried on, you name it I’ve felt the repercussions on how each individual chooses to release during each massage session.

Who's That Rapper??

February in Phoenix is a super busy time and 2015 was a year that was off the charts. Superbowl was held in Arizona that year and the population exploded here in the Valley of the Sun.

I was headed into my second year of doing mobile massage when I was called to a mansion on Camelback Mountain that was rented for the week. I had no information about the client except for the fact the home rented for close to 20k a night. I went in through the gate as instructed and in front of me was a young man wearing thick gold chains smoking a little ganja. His kids were playing in the infinity pool and the hip hop tunes were blasted in the background. I was shown my space upstairs as I admired the house and wondered “Who’s the Rapper?”

I like to call myself “Celebrity dumb” I seriously don’t know a thing about who’s who in the world of icons except a select few that I worship inside my little bubble.

I set up the table and waited for my rapper guy to come upstairs for the massage.

I briefly spoke with him and instructed him to get on the table. We started the massage. I asked him of his problem areas. He runs a lot. Ok, great. I will work hamstrings, quads, low back, stretch hips etc. The protocol was going through my head. Deep tissue massage with some sports massage incorporated. This rapper was in great shape I thought to myself. And he runs too. hmmmmm. I probe with more questions. He was young, in his early 20’s and had boy like energy which reminded me of my oldest son. He was very kind and interested in me and started asking me questions back. At one point in our conversation he said he played for the Pittsburgh Steelers. DING DING DING…I know them !!! I felt like Buddy the elf when somebody spoke of Santa. “My husband is a big fan of the Steelers” I blurted out. He then says.”Oh, so you don’t know who I am?” I’m somewhat embarrassed but I state the obvious. “Ummm, No I’m sorry” He introduces himself. ‘I’m “Mr. B”. That meant nothing to me but I knew my mission was to help Mr. B and his tight hamstring issue. I worked on him for 90 minutes and he was impressed. He booked me for 2 days later.

On my way home I called Myrl and told him I had the chance to work on a football player from his favorite team. He says “Oh yea. who?” I said ”I’m not sure who he is but he introduced himself as “Mr. B”. Myrl was excited, way more than I would have guessed. “Do you know he is? “ Before I had a chance to answer. “He’s the leading (something or other<that’s what I heard in my head>) for the Steelers?” My reply was simply “Nope. I don’t know him, but I am going back in a few days”.

2 days later I returned to Mr. B’s mansion rental in the sky. I walked in to an entrance way filled with shoes, clothing, hats, tons of merchandise that lined the pathway to the room where I would massage him.

We talked briefly as I went to work. He just got done playing an all star game and wanted to decompress. He fell asleep. Besides giving Myrl Mr. B’s dirty sheets what else could I do to capture this moment of glory for my dedicated die hard Pittsburgh Steelers fan? As i was finishing up his hamstrings and before I had Mr. B turn over to his back I stepped in a little puddle of dribble on the floor. OMG! perfect! I know this is going to be gross for most of you but one of the ultimate compliments to a massage therapist is a client falling asleep. What’s even more complimentary is a puddle of drool under them. I quickly got the camera and took a snapshot of the drool spot for my beloved husband.

Mr. B had me on speed dial for the duration of his stay. I really loved working with him and told him when he was back in town to contact me. Those days have since come and gone. This is but a distant memory, but a darn good one.

Mr B. only exploded from there and the piddly massage therapist from Phoenix was left in the dust. Mr B went on to excel and continues to excel. He did a season of “Dancing with the Stars” which means you really are a big deal. To this day I will credit my massage work that happened during Superbowl week of 2015 with any and all touchdowns, winning dance moves or milestones in Mr B’s career.

Cross Dresser Needs Help

12/18/17 submission form request to Phoenix Mobile Massage
Name: Pattie Benetar  
Subject: Getting a Massage, see if I’m a fit 
Message: Call me 

I called Pattie the following day. Pattie turned out to be a male. Oops. Not at all what I would have guessed based on the name or the email name “Patricia Minx” that came through with each correspondence. 
Pattie was reserved and at times stammered with some of the basic questions I was asking. 
Me-“Where are you located?” 
P-“Downtown”
Me-“Great. What type of massage are you looking for? Are you having a specific problem?”
P-......(silence)
Me- “Pattie are you there?”
P- (stammers a bit and finally.....) “Ummmmmm I’m not sure if you’d do this for me but I’ve been hiding for a long time” 
I’m confused at the statement but intrigued what he wants me to do. 
Me-“ I can surely see what I can do for you”
P- “ I think I’m ready to finally go out and wear women’s clothes in public”
Me- “Oh! I’m glad. I’m not sure how I fit into this scenario 
P- “I was truly hoping to get a massage to relax before I get dressed to go out”
Me- “ I can surely try to get a therapist for you”
P- “I’d like you to be the therapist if at all possible” 
At this point I truly wanted to help the guy. Honestly, I did. Then it took a strange turn when he asked me to come over and do his makeup after the massage. 
Oh heavens to Betsy! 
Me- “Pattie, have you looked at my profile on the website? I’m about as plain as they come!”
 I’m laughing as I explain to him that I have zero experience with makeup and he may look like a toddler had a hand in it by the time I was done. We continue the conversation for a few more minutes as I try to think of a solution to help Patricia Minx. 
I suggested he go to Sephora or a professional artist I know in Old Town Scottsdale. That was not what he wanted. 
In the next breath he is inquiring about clothing. Seriously! Why am I still talking about this? I don’t do makeup and my style is 3 levels of clothing. Level 3 An outfit requiring pants, this would typically happen if I had a meeting or if the husband and I were going on a date. Level 2 everyday clothing. This is work or gym clothes. Yoga pants and a tank top. I’m comfortable. I can move freely and it suits me most days. Level 1 lounge or house clothes. This is a T-shirt and pj pants or shorts. So that sums up my style. Again, I’m laughing as I mentally dress Pattie up in man leggings and send him out on the town. 
P- “What would really help is if you could wear panty hose when you come massage me. If I could just touch your legs from the knee down?” 
Me- silence.
Me- Drop dead silence.
Me- More silence.
Me- Uncomfortable I can’t believe you just said that silence.
Me- And finally there was what the hell did I just hear silence. 
Me- “ I’m sorry but I can not help you there. I  wear pantry hose once a year(if I have a wedding or something that requires a dress) and i must tell you I WILL NOT be massaging anyone while wearing them. 
I politely told Pattie we were not a fit but I suggested a meetup group to help him ease into his fantastic fabulous fancy self. 
I truly wanted to help this guy but my boundaries do not include such requests. I sent him on his way with love and well wishes. I truly hope he found what he needed. 
Thank you for the story Patricia Minx. I hope this past year built your confidence into the tall glass of velveteen that you ARE! 

Trip To The Drawer

 Professional Mobile Massage, now Phoenix Mobile Massage, was born in the early summer of 2015. A fellow therapist and myself decided to partner. With our years of experience combined, it seemed like a brilliant move. We had fun as we laughed (silently of course) through couples massages, spent endless lunches brainstorming our master massage plan and stumbled our way through the summer preparing for our "Busy Season". 

We both had some regular clients but if we were busy and a client needed a massage the other would cover.

Enter Safari Shawn. Shawn was a little man in his late 60's and is no taller than a horse jockey. The moment you enter Shawn's house you can't deny this man demands respect. His young assistant answers the door in her Victoria's Secret tank top and lounge shorts. She speaks broken English as she leads me to his massive bedroom accompanied by 2 giant German Shepherds  Along the path I see exotic rugs of zebra hide on the floor. Everywhere I look I see animal parts displayed on the walls, floors and shelves. Basically everywhere I look.

The full 2 hours that I am in the massage session with Shawn I spend enveloping myself in his world. He's a hunter. He likes the prize. Is it the thrill of the hunt? I look at his photos displayed. Lions, and Tigers and Bears. Literally.....EVERYWHERE. Dead ones. I do not judge but I am curious what intrigues the hunt? I have time.. a lot of time to feel out who Shawn is. 

The session ends and I wake Shawn and excuse myself as he dresses. He is quiet as he slips out of the room and returns handing me my payment. This is a consistent behavior and every time he adds a $100 gratuity. I was confused at first that he didn't understand the charge but this was his typical practice of gratitude. My business partner worked with Safari Shawn on occasion as well. We compared notes and pondered the mysterious disappearing act after each massage.

This is what we came up with.

Shawn has a secret room in his house. In my mind it was covered in leopard spots and accessed with a secret combination code that required 2 turns left, 4 turns right, left then right then left one more time. Slowly the vault opens and a hidden drawer pops open. Whazam! A freshly printed Benjamin is dispensed for the taking. The mysterious  drawer in my mind is embellished in gemstones. My business partner has a vision of a gold plated drawer. Either way a trip to the drawer values the work we put in. I have a tendency to make a story of grandeur in my mind. But why settle for anything less? 

I will never forget the first time  Professional Mobile Massage (now Phoenix Mobile Massage) hit a goal of collectively making 1k as an independent business. We rolled the car windows up and took that cash and "MADE IT RAIN" The music was up and we were screaming as $20 bills rolled off our hands and filled the front seat. We were celebrating us in that very moment. 

Often we work so hard and we don't acknowledge where we are and how we got there. The energy exchange of money or being invited back again and again because people see the value of walking to the drawer for YOU. 

The drawer, the rain, the celebration. DO IT!!!! 

Hundred Dollar Bills Ya'll

The last few months of massage school were dedicated to preparing for our state board test and finishing our clinical hours. This was hands on practice that was required to receive our diplomas from the school. 

Our usual clinic days consisted of 1-3 hours of massage in the school clinic setting. My sister was a huge fan of volunteering for such practice. I would massage her for an hour and often times she would toga wrap herself in the sheet and move on to another room that needed a body for practice. Often times folks would take advantage of the special $15 an hour deal and book directly with the school. I remember how nervous I was to touch total strangers. For instance, One time I asked a woman every 8 minutes how the pressure was. (Yes, I kept count) I was unsure of my every move and couldn't read body language at all. I now realize that lady just wanted a relaxing one hour vacay without feeling interrupted by my self-confidence issue. 

I was nearing my massage school clinic career when Barb was on my table. She was a nice lady that seemed to enjoy my massage even with my amateur abilities. When the hour was complete she kindly thanked me and gave me a tip of wadded up paper money. I was in between clients and had to quickly prepare for the next so I took it, thanked her and nonchalantly put it in my pocket. I finished that day and took the wadded bill out of my pocket. It was a hundred dollar bill! OH EM GEE! I almost fainted on the spot. I was a single mother that would attend massage school during the day and bar tend at night. I'm pretty sure in 1998 I didn't encounter many people handing me that kind of money. I was so in awe of what had happened. I was in awe that a stranger believed in me. I was in awe she saw my potential and she valued what I had to offer. I never forgot that day in the massage clinic at National Institute Of Massotherapy and how I felt. Appreciation, excitement, hope, validity....That day I started a mental bucket list. I wanted to do a similar act and pay it forward to a deserving person of service. 

Fast forward 18 years. I spent my 42nd birthday wandering around "Doing Me" as they put it. First, I took myself to breakfast. I sat contemplating what I wanted out of this upcoming birth year. Besides world peace, traveling the world, owning a ranch in Arizona what could I possibly do THAT DAY???  My intention of those very purposeful and long term goals and intentions faded as Carla, my waitress, refilled my never ending ice tea cup. I noticed Carla was older. Possibly in her 60's. Most likely a second job or a career waitress. I could see that she knew her job well and seemed to be happy taking care of her section of customers. At moment it hit me! CARLA IS MY PERSON. Today was the day I pay it forward. I ate my breakfast and got up from the table to pay the bill. I filled out the credit card transaction fighting back tears. The lady at the register asked me "Are you Sure?" when she noticed the $100 tip on the credit card receipt. I nodded my head "yes" as I heard her say, "Of anybody here Carla is the most deserving." 

I left quickly and made it to the car where the tears streamed down my face as I thanked Barb for her gesture many years back. I am grateful everyday for opportunity. I am grateful everyday for recognizing the strengths in others. I am grateful everyday for a journey of experience that led to explosive growth. I am grateful for those that believed in me every step of the way and I am grateful for those that told me "NO". I am grateful I could give back without hesitation.  And finally, I am grateful for that strong inner knowing that someday I would 1000% believe in me.                                                                                                                November 21, 2016 was that day 

Little Jack Horner

I began my massage career working for a chiropractor in Ohio. I was hired before I took the required state medical board test that issued licensure. We were permitted to work under the chiropractors license given there were enough hours of schooling completed. The medical board test is given twice a year so waiting for the 6 month test was grueling to say the least.
The chiropractor was a Greek man that had a big body and a booming (and intimidating) personality. 20 years ago I was fortunate enough to have a starting wage of $17.50. This was a dream job that I could grow with. I had a hunger to satisfy the healer within. I threw on my scrubs 4 days a week and drove to the pain clinic. My “job” was to loosen a specific area with massage before the patient got adjusted. The sessions were back to back 30 minute massages that focused on a specific area. I would hear praises from the doctor about how I did a fantastic job and then in the next breath I would be reprimanded for not giving the client what was needed. I felt defeated most days. My days were 7 hours long with no break. I was exhausted and more times than not I would drive home crying or doubting my profession choice.
The weeks leading up to me leaving. Best described as me throwing a lit match on the center as I dramatically walk away in slow motion with my middle finger in full extension.
These are the events that happened a few weeks before I was terminated,
Shelly was the long time girlfriend of the Greek God chiropractor Dr. John. She approached me and explained to me a veteran was coming in for pain relief.
He experienced hip pain due to trauma in his military career. My heart went out to him. I admit I was nervous being “wet behind the ears” and having to deal with the pelvic region in general. I did my best to feel comfortable working areas on his legs and around the hips including lower back. I was not comfortable touching his butt muscles and steered away from them at all cost. I had an uneasy feeling as he squirmed on the massage table. What was going on? Why was I feeling this? The polished grey haired 60ish year old man that came in seemed “normal”. I continued the 30 minute session. As the treatment was coming to an end he straight up out asked me to massage his rectum. Omg! I almost died on the spot. My worst nightmare was coming true as I panicked in between massage movements. Sweat was developing. My anger was kicking up and I felt violated in this so called public office with many employees around. Did I sign up to be treated as somebody who’d stick a finger in dark places? I remember keeping my mouth shut and listening as he told me the VA clinic offered those services to him and he felt great relief. I somehow was able to skirt the issue and the session ended. I was more than relieved when “Little Jack Horner” left the building but not without badmouthing me to the forces that be. I was not putting thumbs or any device in people’s butts.
I talked to Dr. Ego afterwards about my encounter only to be told that people have pain and seek different ways of dealing with it. I thought to myself “Well, you need to deal with this man's need for rectal stimulation because I WILL NOT!” I never spoke up against any of this. I sat and listened as my heads hung low. I kept my feelings bottled as I was still fresh and thought perhaps this is what pain clinics deal with. I was unsure about myself as a therapist and a young 20 something year old. However I was grateful that Dr. Eyebrows took a chance on me. I was working my field and making a difference in peoples lives and making a decent wage.
I call my 9 month employment with the pain clinic my bootcamp for massage therapy. I was thrown in the deep end not knowing how to swim. Staying afloat and steering clear of sharks. I was yelled at to swim faster and harder then praised when I made the swim instructor look like Jesus walking on water.  I’m grateful for this experience. It toughened me up a bit but also made me realize what certain folks motives are. Dr. Feel goods motive was volume = money.
I struggled with that. I’m a healer and I’m not in it for the money. This was a clash of the titans for sure.
I was terminated shortly after this experience. The details are long and I won’t bore you with the scenario that ended my massage bootcamp experience. (It was time to graduate and move on.
(Lights match.... dramatic music plays.... throws match..... explosion in the distance.... I’m charred and battered slightly..... but I’m still standing..... still moving...stronger for the experience.... grateful to be alive... not looking back) Burn MF

Happy Endings?

Ugh! If I never hear this phrase again it can not be soon enough! Early in my career I found a level of discomfort when people would ask "Soooooo..... Do you give happy endings?" This was meant to break the ice, be humorous,or original? I learned quickly how to give my best blank stare. I moved away from the fake laugh as they laughed and the stare became my normal. What a question to ask. At one point in my career I took extreme offense to this. After all, I am an educated professional. I came to realize that some people are awkward and I can not go into that awkward place with them. If this question is presented to me in a social situation I can now simply say "no" and move on. The explanation is not worth my time and energy. However if the situation involves a client receiving massage service at the time, I immediately terminate the session. I use my best "Mom voice" as I scold them for their lack of respect. I pack up my belongings in a timely fashion, collect payment and slam the door. I call my husband to vent. I'm still pissed. He diffuses the situation and tells me that I should take it as a compliment that people still find me attractive. I laugh, we laugh and I go on with my day. 

Confessions of a Massage Therapist -The Real-The Raw-Down and Dirty

Hello and Welcome to Confessions of a Massage Therapist. The anecdotes you will embark on may or may not have factual depictions of true to life situations. Please note and acknowledge that these are strictly for entertainment purposes and names may be altered to protect the identity of those involved. Please follow along as I tell my 20 year journey as a massage therapist.