Posts Tagged ‘muscle’

I need someone to stand on my thigh for me,” said Jésus.

It’s not a request you hear that often.

Jack, Jo and I looked at each other. No-one said anything.

It was approaching midnight on the dying embers of my birthday and the three of us were sitting on the back terrace after a very pleasant evening of food, cava and rosé wine. We had the patio doors open wide and Massive Attack was supplying the sounds from the living room stereo.

Then Jésus arrived, made his strange request and sat on the terrace steps while Jack poured him a wine.
Twenty minutes or so had passed in pleasant conversation when I made my decision.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
I’d had a few glasses by then and I thought it might make an interesting and amusing end to my birthday.

Jésus unrolled the exercise mat on the terrace, lay face down on it and placed the heel of my left foot precisely at the point where buttock meets thigh.
“Can you feel the muscle?” he asked.
I jiggled my heel slightly, my weight entirely resting on the other foot and felt the softer tissue of muscle.
“Okay then, slowly put your weight onto your heel holding it right on that muscle.”
Holding the terrace rail for balance I carefully and gingerly transferred my weight to my left heel, concentrating hard so that the wobble stopped and I could feel the sinewy muscle.
“That’s great,” said Jésus. “Now press harder.”

I did as he asked, suddenly aware that this was going to involve a lot more work on my part than a) I had bargained for and b) I was probably capable of at this stage in the proceedings.

“Now follow the line of the muscle a little bit farther down,” said Jésus, directing my heel fractionally away from his buttock.
“Aaargh” he said “that’s it”.
I could sense his pain as I placed more pressure on my heel.
“Harder” he grimaced through the pain.
I was torn. I wanted to lift my foot and reduce his pain levels but clearly this was precisely what he was looking for.
“Harder,” he said.

Things to do on your birthday, Number 142

Things to do on your birthday, Number 142

By this time Jack and Jo had got bored with the proceedings and had gone back to drinking and chatting leaving me with my foot on the agony-ridden Jésus and a minor cramp spreading through my left buttock.
“How much do you weigh?” asked Jésus.

I felt this was a bit akin to ‘how old are you’ in the personal questioning department and would normally try for some witty retort but under the circumstances…
“Ten stone.” I said
“How much is that in kilos?”
There was a lengthy and rather pathetic discussion between Jack, Jo and me that involved a great deal of attempted and failed mental arithmetic before Jésus said;
“You feel about 65 kilos to me,” and I settled for that.

Our strange dance continued for twenty minutes or so while I inched my heel further along the muscle and Jésus grimaced and gritted his teeth. Eventually he said he was done and I was able to take my numb buttock and return to the serious business of catching up with Jack and Jo.

Earlier in the day Jésus had offered to give me a massage for my birthday and I had rather cruelly retorted;
“You’re supposed to get nice things on your birthday.”
I’d regretted saying that as it looked as if I’d hurt his feelings. But as I hobbled back to my chair and left Jésus contorted in a vaguely slip knot position on the mat while he re-aligned the muscle, I think my earlier comment may have been guilty of no more than understatement.

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