"Don't Worry- He Lady Boy"

I'm a big fan of pampering. When I graduated, I worked (fleetingly) in the beauty industry, on the shop floor.  I got that job by walking (uncharacteristically boldly) into a shop, after a hard day job hunting, and telling the manager, if she was convinced by me selling her the contents of my make up bag, she should employ me. She was, and she did. I know I sound like a quintessential girl, but I love products, candles, bubble baths, body creams, perfumes, make up and face masks. Pampering, is the ultimate pastime for me, not because I'm vain, but because I enjoy the luxury of the products.

With this in mind, you can imagine my delight when one of my closest friends bought me a massage for my birthday. I love having massages, albeit an odd experience. You lie, stark bollock naked, on a bed, with your face in a hole, whilst a stranger pummels your back. I usually fall asleep, and then pay almost 100 quid for the privilege. Saying this, spending basically a pound a minute, does make me oddly uncomfortable, so I rarely treat myself to proper massages. Thus, my gratitude to my friend was high and my excitement was extremely high!

We spontaneously decided to redeem the gift on a Monday night after work. The spa was right next door, a Thai spa, decadent and relaxing. After a minor disagreement with the spa manager, we were lead into the 'Serenity Room'. A dark, warm, fragrant room, where incense was burning, there were Buddahs in abundance and they served you endless cups of Jasmine Tea. Before we could enjoy the tranquility of the Serenity Room, we were lead to the changing rooms, handed robes and asked to prepare, by stripping off. 

Whilst getting undressed, and mentally preparing for 60 minutes of pure relaxation, the spa manager walked into the changing rooms. She informed my friend, that she had a woman masseuse, who would be ready for her in 5 minutes, she informed me, that they had no more female masseurs, and I was assigned to a man. "Don't worry", she said, "He's not a real man, he's gay, he's a gay Lady Boy". Of course, I have no issue with gay people, or with those with gender issues. I just really wanted a good massage, but it made me characteristically awkward that she felt the need to impart the information. The words "only you" were uttered by my friend, as we tentatively stepped towards the Serenity Room.

When my masseuse arrived, one wouldn't have known he was in the middle of major gender reconstructive surgery. He looked like a small, somewhat feminine, man, but not overtly 'Lady Boy'. He lead me into a room, and washed my feet (a bit odd to be honest) and asked me to remove my robe and lie on the bed. As he did this, he flamboyantly whipped a towel from the bed and held it over his eyes, ready to cover up my modesty when I'd hauled myself up. I sheepishly attempted to protect my modesty, Lady Boy or no Lady Boy, I'm not a huge fan of having my bits out in front of strangers, even in the moderately flattering mood lighting of the spa room. I noticed him peeking over the top of the towel, but attempted to ignore it. As I lay down, he said to me "When I go for my operation, I want to have boobs like yours, you're all woman". Mortified, I tried to focus on clearing my mind. Whilst it is a huge compliment, I'm not a fan of chatty massages, I want to switch off. He starts to massage my back, and not unusually asked me if I was happy with the pressure. I said yes, and went back to switching off. 

Five minutes later, I was again, interrupted from my lethargy, by my masseuse asking me if I was happy with the softness of his hands. Irritated, I obligingly told him that he had very soft hands. He proudly went on to tell me how, he worked very hard to have soft hands, as he believed it was very feminine. I tried to reassure him that his hands were as silky as any female, without sounding homicidal, and again, tried to regain my composure, focusing on relaxation, not the condition of the man's hands.

Ten minutes later, I was, for the third time, disturbed from my slumber by my friend the masseuse. He was pulling down my leggings, to get better access to my lower back, and I audibly flinched when he did so and he obviously wanted to reassure me. He did so by saying "Don't worry Miss, I seen loads of ass in my time". 

To be honest, that was the nail in the coffin for my relaxation. I spent the final 40 minutes, unable to fall into my relaxed state, in case he started giving me intimate details of his hormone therapy or graphic details about his impending surgery. Saying that, it was a very good massage, mainly due to the suppleness of his hands mixed with the firmness of touch. It did make me think, the Lady Boy was the best masseuse I have experienced, I just wish he'd shut up. I did also leave the spa, wondering what hand cream he used, and where I could purchase some for myself. After all, I'm never one to shy away from a good product, and his hands were exceptionally smooth.