So, here's what I've been pondering all day. Yesterday, I went to physical therapy twice-- once in the morning for deep-tissue massage, and again later in the afternoon to work with a PT. I've gone to this massage therapist twice now. No biggie. First time with this particular PT, though. When you undress for the massage therapist, they tell you to undress to your "comfort level." So, I leave on the undies and throw the rest on the chair. Really? I do that? Yeah, I guess I do. So, I'm lying down on his massage table almost completely naked... and it isn't bothering me. Hmmm.
What you need to know about me is that I was really shy when I was younger. Not just really. PAINFULLY shy. I couldn't look people in the eyes when spoken to... answered questions with only the required amount of detail. That was it. NEVER initiated conversations. My teachers always told my parents that they really enjoyed me as a student-- bright, very mature for my age. They just wished I could "come out of my shell a little."
Once I got into music and performing on stage, I broke that shell into pieces. I figured out how to deal with the anxiety of talking to people, and now you'd never know I was the same person.
But the one thing that I thought had remained consistent over the years is my modesty. I have never, ever been comfortable showing too much skin. Even during the skinnier years. I had bikinis... I only wore them when tanning... in the privacy of a big backyard with a big fence.
First time I ever had a massage, I kept the bra on. Considering the fact that my back is my problem area, it wasn't that effective with the bra on. The next massage, I became a little braver. But these two therapists were both women. I was a little older and a little bolder. No big deal.
So, cut to the present. The massage therapist is a guy. He's very non-threatening. It's never uncomfortable. And it's really not bothering me at all. Me. The one who went to New Orleans and didn't get ANY beads. The one who has never skinnydipped in her entire life. The one who, only at her very drunkest ever, ran around a fraternity with a bra and jeans on. I know this guy works on 20 naked women a day, and that my "issues" are not even in his main thought processes of the day. I just wonder... when did I become
I know this is not a big deal. There are much better posts today about more valuable topics. I just can't get this one thing out of my mind.