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Java.June.2016

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GIRL ON FARMER<br />

Treat Yourself.<br />

“Treating yourself” is a real whitey, middle-class<br />

thing to do. Maybe everyone does it, but all I’ve<br />

ever been is white and middle class, so I know<br />

these people say things like, “Oh, just treat<br />

yourself!” when you are prepared to spend money<br />

you don’t have or indulge in something that might<br />

not be good for you. I live a pretty privileged life<br />

on the big-picture scale, considering that a third<br />

of the global population doesn’t have access to a<br />

working toilet. So, the whole “treat yourself” is a<br />

guilt alleviator when we should just do what we<br />

want anyway and not justify it as a treat.<br />

See, I feel so guilty about treating myself that<br />

I had to get all Debbie Downer on you. And my<br />

self-treat hardly counts, because it was a gift card<br />

that someone gave me for being wonderful. The<br />

card was for a spa, and it was worth $75, which to<br />

me indicates being very wonderful. With it, I got<br />

myself a nice massage.<br />

The spa card wasn’t for a real, retreat-style, fancyass<br />

spa, like the one I went to many years ago,<br />

where workers step aside when you walk through<br />

the hallway and you are served iced cucumber water<br />

and walk around in a fluffy robe like a pharaoh. It is<br />

at the same time both incredibly uncomfortable and<br />

indulgently delicious.<br />

Anyway, this was not like that. It was a massage<br />

place in a strip mall. No one was pouring me<br />

anything and I wasn’t asked to put on a robe made<br />

of angel feathers. They led me to the little room<br />

where I was asked to “undress to my comfort level.”<br />

My comfort level is naked, but I didn’t really get the<br />

protocol and I wondered if you were supposed to be<br />

lying around butt naked in the strip mall massage<br />

place. I also had my period and decided that it would<br />

be a little gross to be all sprawled out and have my<br />

tampon string hanging there like a fishing line. So I<br />

kept my underwear on.<br />

It was very calm and relaxing in the little room. There<br />

was a dim light and waterfall sounds. I was looking<br />

forward to being all peaceful and quiet and maybe<br />

even falling asleep on the table. Then the massage<br />

lady, Sherri, came in and I quickly found out that this<br />

was a therapy session—for her. She asked me all<br />

kinds of questions about my massage preference, my<br />

38 JAVA<br />

MAGAZINE

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