Ack! You punk! Sure!

I have some pretty severe lower back pain for somebody in their 20's. I've tried chiropractors, but it doesn't seem to do anything. Working out helps for a couple of hours but it always stiffens up at night again. Waking up in the morning is when my back is the worst. I think of it as my own personal spin on morning wood, with no hope of release.

Yesterday, out of sheer desperation for something a little more invasive, I decided to try acupuncture. A friend of mine is in her 2nd semester at a school of eastern medicine here in the city. She can get me a discount on treatments, and a few of our friends have had some great results, eliminating everything from stress to the runs.

I arrived at the school early to fill out the required paperwork, which was the most detailed questionairre I'd ever been handed. Silly email quizzes have nothing on this guy, and I'm not actually sure I even knew all of these facts about myself.

I sat in the waiting room for a while. It was a decent waiting room. There were a few plants in the corners and the latest issue of New York Magazine was in the racks. There were patients of all ages there. One of them was an older woman of about 70 who stood-I'm not kidding-at a nintety degree angle. I realized that if I didn't take care of this problem now, that would undoubtedly be me in 40 years. She was taken back to the treatment rooms, and I resumed my people watching. A really tense woman sat across from me, obsessively text messaging. Another woman sat reading Highlights Magazine. I thought it was strange that Highlights Magazine was stil being published and was in this particular waiting room, but was glad for the familiarity of the cover.

Also in the waiting room was a great big window looking into what I'm going to call the herb room. In the herb room were shelves stacked to the ceiling with every kind of herb you could imagine. (All except one, I imagine.)Inside the herb room was a reserved, shy-looking girl working quietly and methodically. Her sole job, it seemed, was taking the herbs out of one huge glass jar, weighing them, and putting them into another glass jar. Jar. Scale. Jar. Jar. Scale. Jar. Jar. Scale. Jar. I drifted off to sleep watching this woman's repetitive work and was jolted awake by a harsh Russian voice saying my name. "Janey-fur?"

"Yes?"I said along with 2 other women named Janey-fur. Turns out, she needed crazy text lady.

They left and I returned my attention to the herb room, so that I could fall asleep again. I really was nervous about receiving acupuncture for the first time, but for some reason, when I'm afraid, my body shuts down completely. Most of the people I know become edgy and jumpy. I get sleepy and fetal.

This time, it was impossible to drift off, because a really beautiful yoga-bodied blond-whispied woman glided into the herb room. She posessed three very key items: a labcoat, a clipboard, and a really great haircut. Just one of those things is sexy, but if you're donning all three and happen to be attractive, then we have a problem. The problem is that you're still wearing the labcoat and on the other side of the room and we're still in a public place and neither of us are naked.

She was chatting on the other side of the window with one of her coworkers and laughing in what seemed to be slow motion underscored by Barry White.

Please don't let her be my intern. Pleeeease! I begged the universe.

"Jennifer?" I looked up. "Hi, Jennifer. I'm Ethel. It's nice to meet you." I shook hands with Ethel, a non-blond. She was around my age and had a very comforting smile. My nerves began to melt away.I was safe. Blonde Lady was still yukking it up in the herb room. She was indeed not my intern which meant that if I saw her on the street someday, she was fair game. I wouldn't do anything about it, but the contest was now fair and open to to me if I should one day like to participate: No Purchase Necessary.

"I hope you haven't been waiting long."

"No, I said. Not too long." Ethel began to walk to the treatment rooms and I took one last look into the herb room. She was gone. Oh, well, I thought, We have our whole lives to look at each other.


Ethel opened the door to the treatment room for me, and I was kicked in the figurative stomach. There was Blonde Lady getting the room ready for my appointment. Apparently, they were going to work on me together. Apparently we weren't getting married someday. And apparently, I would never see this woman without her labcoat.

Ethel hit me with a barrage of about 100 questions, regarding every bodily function you can imagine.

E: Do you sweat anywhere abnormal, Jennifer?

Me: I sweat under my eyes alot, I guess. What's abnormal?

E: Have you noticed a yellowish coloring in the armpit area of any of your white shirts?

Me: I thought that was deodorant.

E: It might be.

Blonde Lady: But it could be something else.

I froze. This was the first time she'd opened her mouth since the intoduction. My insticts were to keep this beautiful person talking--to engage her in intellectual conversation, but common sense told me that after we were done here, she wouldn't even want to look at me in the real world.

E: What about bowel movents?

Me: Ha, ha, ha! What about bowel movements? They happen. Ha, ha, ha!

I smiled at Blonde Lady. She returned the smile politely. Damn her boots were sexy.

E: How many times per day and when?

Me: Uhh, well. I- I go in the morning, I guess, and um-

Blonde Lady: (sotto butter voce) Jennifer, I know it's strange to talk about this, but really, it's all we talk about all day long. It's almost fascinating.

That was all I needed: Permission to fascinate. I'm going to spare you the details. It suffices to say that I have regular bowel movements, and B.L. now knows precisely how many times per day they happen and their color, texture, and consistency. (She inquired about the color, actually. My only conclusion is that she wants me. Bad.)

B.L. also knows the color of my tongue, noted concern about its slight yellowish coating, and marvelled at how wide it was. She knows when and what I eat, what time I go to bed, and when I use the steam room at the gym. She knows the regularity and duration of my menstrual cycle, and precisely, on a scale from one to ten, how much rage I exhibit while PMSing. Simply put: She knows more about me than anyone I've ever dated.

So why aren't we married? Oh, right. Labcoat.

After the interview was done, B.L. pressed on my abs a couple of times and determined I had some sort of deficiency in my spleen. Then I flipped over, and after a brief visit and consulation with their supervisor, B.L. and Ethel started sticking me with needles. There was a crazy electricity that took place each time a needle was flicked into my skin. It would sting for a second then the pain would slowly dull.

Here's the rundown:

The Treatment:
1 pin in each hip (slightly uncomfortable)
2 pins in each hand (really alarming)
2 pins in my lower back (a little pinchy)
1 pin in each foot (sweet jesus that smarts)

Outcome:
10 needles
20 minutes of silent, face-down-on-a-table meditation
8 fantasies about B.L.

None of these fantasies went all the way, however, because as far as fantasies go, I'm pretty unimaginative. They all took place in the treatment room. I realized as soon as we started making out that I still had needles in me and that was in no way sexy and in every way a logistical nightmare. I eventually gave up and started thinking about what I was going to make for dinner that night.

I couldn't even feel the needles as they pulled them out of me. The members of Team Intern were extremely quiet, careful, and gentle.

I'd made it! I'd officially survived my very first acupuncture treatment. I was so proud of myself for getting through it-For simply having tried something new.

Just as I was about to get up and dressed I felt two hands on my ass.

BL: Your glutes are really tense.

Me: Oh, really? Wow.

BL: Yeah. God, I'm really having to dig in here.

Me: Yeah, I can feel that.

Ethel: We're lucky enough to have a certified massage therapist in the room.

Me: Oh, neat.

BL: You're going to have to come back next week for some cupping.

This ass massage went on for about 20 minutes.

Now, I know what you're thinking, but I'm not really a dirty kid. I've had a number of massages before by a number of different people. I wasn't turned on while this was happening. More than anything, I found it difficult to relax around BL. Throw on the added layers of disrobing, talk of bowel movements, and ass rubbing, and it's an almost unbearable situation.

After the two interns left the room, I got up and took inventory of my usal pain. The tension in my hips was significantly lessened. My lower back wasn't seizing. My ass felt great!

I'll go back.

Stop it. Whatever you're thinking, that's not the reason.