"Foot Reflexology" is not the same thing as a "foot massage"

When we lived in the H, we would go get pedicures and stuff from time to time. Jon likes to rub my leg with his nasty foot callus, so he needs it cut off every couple of months. I love a good pedi and foot rub as much as the next guy, and I have a tendency not to notice when all my nail polish has chipped off. It's one of the very few things we do to try to look not so grubby/west side, but we love doing it together, and that's a good thing for a relationship.

So when we came to Singapore the first time, Jon BEGGED to try out Foot Reflexology. "Sure! Of course we can go," says the unsuspecting American tourist to her oh-so-excited husband.

Lucky us! There was a foot reflexology place in our very own hotel! (i'm beginning to realize that the one common thread of every blog I write is that nothing turns out as planned...)

So before Jon's birthday dinner at the very fancy Equinox Restaurant on the 77th floor of the Swissotel Singapore:

The view from the restaurant. Crazy, right?!

We stopped at "My Foot Reflexology" for a 45 minute session.

It was probably about 44 minutes too long.

They started on me first. Mind you, I'm a self-professed WIMP. I am fully aware of my condition. I have no pain threshold whatsoever. The lady takes my feet and a giant glob of lotion, and starts pulling and twisting my unsuspecting toes in her vice-like grip. I'm pretty sure she was preparing my toes for ground beef.

Apparently the theory is that each part of your foot corresponds with another part of your body, as shown here:

Just Google "Foot Reflexology Chart" if you want specifics.

If they're rubbing a certain area and it hurts, apparently that part of your body has some sort of disease or malady and you have to keep coming back until it doesn't hurt anymore. I'm pretty sure in America that's called "fake it til you make it" but I digress.

So my feet are being put through what I suppose it would feel like to go through that thing that squeezes out the water from your chamois at the car wash, when another guy comes and starts rubbing Jon's feet.

Jon, up until this point, was SO EXCITED for his foot rub that when the meat grinder was working on me, I had been grinning and bearing it so as not to ruin his birthday foot massage.

His session begins, and immediately, I can feel him tense up. I saw the pain in his eyes. His knuckles turned white on the arm rest. As the massage goes on and on, Jon keeps twitching, yelping, writing notes to me on the notes section on my phone with too many cuss words to write on a family-friendly blog. Jon kicked him probably about 5 times. I'm pretty sure he was aiming for the face, but I was busy doing my best not to laugh at the poor guy's attempt at kick deflection.

Don't get me wrong, it was painful. But probably the funniest foot not-massage I have ever had. And I have gone back to do it again (mostly for some covert pictures for this here blog post), but I found a different place that you tell the therapist if you'd like light, medium, or hard pressure- but it still all kind of feels like a self-inflicted hammer to the foot when it comes down to it.

about to have my toe pulled off- maybe it would have hurt less.

at this point, i took a picture to distract myself from the pain.

don't let his elderly appearance fool you. he is proficient in torture techniques.
he probably knows how to kill you with one toe squeeze.

- Cheers to America! Jon & Nikki