Friday, February 23, 2007

Vibrator, Madam?

Yesterday evening I could hardly walk. It felt like my right hip had dislocated itself although this was merely the sensation as, had that been the case, I would not have been able to walk. I had spent the day just been sitting at my desk, paper-pushing as usual; nothing untoward had happened - no one had crashed into me, I hadn't fallen over, been hit by a baseball bat, thrown against the wall by a wild horse or keeled over in a drunken stupor.

The night's repose brought no relief, so I decided to call the physiotherapist and get whatever was stuck unstuck. He could see me at 9.30am, so off I toddled (hobbled), hoping to walk normally again within minutes thanks to his magic touch and expert (big) hands.

I was a tad disconcerted by the rather dowdy entrance which was stamp-sized, unlit and unpainted (probably why it was unlit). I was met rapidly by the kiné and taken into his den. He popped me up onto the examination couch and started manipulating my leg hither and thither. I was still fully dressed at this point.

We were getting nowhere except establishing that I had a problem with the 'rotation interne' (inside rotation?) and he decided it needed zapping with electricity, so, once undressed, he connected me up to one of those pulsating pads, and hit the juice until I was hanging from the chandelier. Thus I stayed for ten minutes, with the sensation of nails being poked into my skin on my hip. Why, asked I? To get the endorphins buzzing, came the intriguing reply. Was I supposed to be getting high, I wondered. The result was pretty disappointing if that was the aim as I still had the nagging hip and no happy clappy brain cloud.

My torture over, and my face despondent, I was maybe considered as a prime candidate for some recompense, so my kiné suggested the vibromasseur. This aroused my interest, as your average vibromasseur is long and interestingly shaped, and I didn't quite see how this could possibly be applied to my hip.

It turned out that kinés have a panoply of attachments (which I'm sure they make extensive use of during out-of-business hours) including one in the shape of a horseshoe. This fitted neatly over my thigh and throbbed with all its might as it was massaged over my poorly hip. I was enjoying this immensely. Then I was struck by the thought that if I had cellulite, it would be a terribly useful machine, and the RA situation came back to me re the discussion in Carrefour's cosmetics department. I just had to chortle and then had to explain to my muscle-rippling kiné why. To my amusement, he told me that he had a cellulite attachment, and showed it to me as proof.

It looked exactly like those attachments we had for hairdryers in the eighties for drying curly perms - you know, the ones that look like a dish with lots of solid sausages attached to it. Which made me think. Girls, if you have cellulite, forget the creams that don't work. Grab your personal vibromasseur, attach it to your useless sausage dish hairdryer attachment and get working on those thighs. You'll save yourself loadsa beauty salon expensive treaments!

Now, don't say I never do my best to help!

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