Tuesday, April 17, 2007

I think the massage chair sponsorship deal may be off

I think the massage chair sponsorship deal may be off

"They're free!"

Dean shrieks this as we approach the top of the escalators in House of Fraser.

I look in the direction in which Dean is now running to see what can have provoked such a reaction. There is a list in my head of things that could be responsible. This list, which is admittedly not exhaustive is still fairly comprehensive, goes something along the lines of: Mulberry Bags, things that will make me go 'euurrgghh', dresses, Vogue and Mulberry Bags (yes, they get in the list twice).

It is safe to say I did not expect to see a pair of chairs.

Or, let me be more accurate here, a pair of massage chairs.

By the time I reach the chairs Dean is already in place, pressing buttons and generally demonstrating far too much enthusiasm.

"Sit down!"

Even though I know this cannot - on any level - be described as a good thing I do as I have been told. I suspect I need to stop doing this where Dean is concerned.

Tentatively I push the button which proclaims itself to be a 'demo'.

Immediately my back is assaulted with what feels like a ball being pushed into it.

"I'm not sure I like this".

This is something of an understatement. But I am in public so I am polite.

"It's brilliant!"

Brilliant is, I am convinced, the wrong adjective. The chair now seems to be drilling a hole into my spine. I doubt I will be able to walk when I get up.

"No, no it's not".

"You're such a girl".

I am not going to argue about this. I am a girl. Metaphorically and literally. There is nothing I can do about it. And I haven't even started going on about how easily I bruise.

But for reasons I can't quantify I stay sitting in my chair. And when Dean tells me to swap seats with him I do. I would say that after this my debt for (accidentally) booking tickets to see McFly on his 21st birthday is paid. With interest.

An hour or so later we're walking around our fifth home section of the day. My back is now hurting so much that I'm struggling to concentrate on anything else.

"My back!" I moan.

Dean rolls his eyes. We both know that this moment has 'Drama Queen' written above it in neon flashing letters.

And then it comes.

"I think the massage chair has given me sciatica".

Despite the fact that I am aware that sciatica is lower back pain and my pain is residing somewhere around my shoulder I stick to the point.

"You've given me sciatica!"

Dean looks at me, pulling my best wounded Drama Queen pose. It's a good pose. I use it a lot.

"So, do you want to go to Ikea then?"

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