Okay since I’m on a roll here, on the topic of hippiedom, now that we’re all in touch with our patchouli-scented inner hippies, I’m going to tell you the bizarre things the psychic massage lady said to me about what I was up to in my past life.
This was years ago on the day before my wedding – I had gone with my maid of honor up to the Napa Valley to spend the day at a relaxing spa. I was really looking forward to it because it was my first ever “all over” body massage, and I needed to relax.
The masseuse comes in. She’s really big and fat (is that politically incorrect? to say the word fat or to notice that she was very fat?) and she had a look in her eye that I wasn’t so sure about. All I remember is that in my head, I was telling myself: Do not start talking to the massage therapist – just. do. not! Because I I’m codependent which means I always overcompensate so if someone starts talking to me – a dental technician when my mouth is full of cotton, a clerk, or someone in the car line when I’m in a rush to get to an appointment – anyone, really – I will strike up a deep, in-depth conversation with them even if it would really be in my best interest for us all to just shut up so I can hear the silence or get to where I need to be.
I really, really didn’t want to talk during that massage. I needed the silence. I had so many words in my head on the day before my wedding…
She says something.
She says: Uh-oh.
I pretend not to hear her, because I’m like flypaper to flies with attracting all the drama and nuttiness from perfect strangers and kooks and nutcases all around me who always come to me to tell me things. So I didn’t say anything, just held my breath…
So she says it again: Uh-oh.
And: Oh, no!
Me: “Is there a problem?”
Her: “I probably shouldn’t tell you this but I’m a psychic and I’m getting a really heavy hit on your past life and it’s – well, it’s not very good.”
With great unhappiness, I flip carefully onto my back under the blanket, grab a towel and twist around to face her. “What is it?”
Her: “In your past life you were an obese, abusive alcoholic and that’s why in this life – in your future – you’re going to have difficulty with addiction, and with losing weight.”
Her: “Do you drink?”
Me: “No -”
Her: “Well thank God for that because if you did it wouldn’t go down very well, but you probably already know that, right?”
Me: Staring, dumbfounded. WTF?!
Her: “I’m sorry to have to tell you this stuff, but I got such a hit off your back – ”
Me: “My back?”
Her: “Yeah. It just came at me – whoosh!”
Me: “I’m getting married tomorrow. This is – heavy.”
Her: “I’m sorry – you probably wanted to relax and not be told all about how you were an abusive obese alcoholic in your past life!” (laughs) “It’s your karma, see…blah-blah-blah,” and on and on she went telling me how I was an awful shit of an ass, a really fat one, apparently, in my past life so “this” life would be spent “paying penance” for that one. When I asked her who I was abusive towards she said well, you were a mom, so it was your kids.
I mean – really!
See – this is an example of a Californian not being able to keep their dysfunctional shit to themselves. They have to spill it all over everyone within earshot.
What I was thinking: “Am I being karmically punished for noticing how fat she was when she first walked in? Is that what’s going on?”
What I said: “Do you mind if we stop the massage? I’m not really in the mood for it now.”
And so on. So much for the relaxing massage the day before my wedding.
PS: Just for the record, I didn’t believe a word she said.
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