And they both were cute!
Sadly, they were both far, far more concerned about the knots in my muscles than the fact that they had their hands all over me and I wasn’t enjoying it.
I was whimpering. And groaning. The rest of my body tensed up too, so much so that Fabian gently took me by the shoulders as he stretched out my hamstrings and shook me, saying, “Ssh, relax.” You all know the PT hamstring stretch, right? I mean, it’s so suggestive, even someone who was a total innocent would notice it (not just sex addicts like myself).
If you don’t know this stretch, here’s a sketch I made to demonstrate how it works.
This is what I did today in physical therapy, in order:
- Had my quads palpated for a hot second
- Rolled my quads on the foam roller (4 minutes)
- Rolled my ITB on the foam roller (4 minutes)
- Used the Stick on my soleus (4 minutes)
- Stood on a lacrosse ball on pressure points (30 seconds x 3, once each foot), opening and closing my toes
- Got stretched out by Fabian
- Got some kind of electric shock treatment on my quads for 20 minutes that made my thighs jiggle in a horrifying, hilarious manner. I read The Art of Fielding on my nook and tried to ignore how disgusting my thighs looked during this treatment.
- Andre/Anton (not sure of his name, he reminds me of Hans und Franz but skinny and literate–he started talking to me about Atlas Shrugged) had the dubious honor of working on my calves. Basically, he took his evil, pointy fingers and ran them up my muscles until he found a knot, at which point he’d pressure it until it surrendered or said, “Fuck you!” Wait, maybe that was me saying Fuck you! It’s a little foggy.
- Fabian stretched me out again, telling me to shush and once again setting up the pain/pleasure dynamic by telling me, as he was causing me intense discomfort by pushing my leg up until my knee was by my ear, “Much better! You are much looser! You feel great!”
- Fabian worked on my feet, loosening up the joints while also pressing so hard on the bottom of my tootsies that I saw flashes of white.
Then I was released to the locker room, floating on a rush of the ecstasy that sweeps in with knowledge that the pain is over, at least for now.
Just to be clear: physical therapy is not SEXUAL but it sure as fuck is PHYSICAL.
I am getting better. I’m not cured, but the constant, searing foot pain has ceased.
It sure is phyical and does seem a little sexual, right? Oh well, we get our kicks where we can get them. Hope it keeps helping.
Two therapists! Sounds like you’re getting your money’s worth–or maybe I should say bang for the buck. Sort of. And not a single lecture about hip mobility? Excellent! Best wishes for further, and faster, progress.
Actually, Fabian did mention that my hip flexors were tight, but not in the way that he pinned all my issues on it.
Ouch! That does look like it hurts.