24 Hours Before 39

I celebrated my 39th birthday yesterday. I'm not one of those women who gets all depressed about getting a year older and as you can see, I have no problem telling my age. Here's a recap of what happened before the big day:

On Monday I got a free massage. One of my Facebook friends has a friend who's getting her license and she needed warm bodies to practice on. 

Sign. Me. Up!

Candid Confession: In all of my 38 years and 364 days, I'd never had a professional massage. The bribed foot rubs from The Girl and The Boy certainly don't count. I thought they did. I know better now. 

I was feeling a little anxious about driving across town to meet a stranger who would end up putting her hands all over me. This free offer didn't sound so good any more. I woke The Girl and left her a copy of the address and directions to where I was going - just in case I didn't make it back. I called Baby Daddy upon my arrival and gave him a description of the house. I told him if he didn't hear from me in an hour, call the authorities. I'd fallen victim to sex trafficking. 

A soft spoken lady greeted me at the door and ushered me to the room where it was about to go down. I carefully surveyed the place. Looking for clues. Signs of a previous struggle.  Anything out of the ordinary. She asked if I had any injuries she needed to know about. I started naming off all kinds of ailments - everything I've ever self-diagnosed with the help of WebMD. Clearly this would make a human smuggler change their mind about holding me captive. My astigmatism, seasonal allergies, and tendinitis would hinder my sex-slaving abilities.

She told me to get undressed to the point where I felt comfortable, get on the table underneath the sheet,  put my face in the cradle, and she would return in a few minutes. As soon as she left, I grabbed my phone and sent Baby Daddy a text:

Me: I'm about to get undressed! Start praying and be on standby!

Him: Ok, but if there's any trouble I'm sure you can take em down!

Dude - this IS NOT the time for a pep talk. My ass could literally be on the line here. 

When she entered the room alone - minus duct tape and rope- I knew everything was ok. I could lay there and enjoy the experience. After about 15 minutes of total relaxation, I came to the conclusion that I never wanted to leave. This quaint little room would be my new home.

Fully equipped with a soon-to-be licensed masseuse.