I knew I should have worn slacks to work today.
In case you didn't already know, I earn my keep as part of the administrative support staff at a massage therapy school. The worst part, of course, is being forced to get massages whenever clients fail to show up for the student clinics. Oh, the horror! However, today was not one of those days. Today, the morning students had a massage test that included identifying various massage techniques. This is not something that can be done using a diagram; it requires live demonstration, and, consequently, a live body.
Guess who got to be the body, since only the accountant wanted my attention at that moment. Unlike getting a full body massage, "being the body" is done fully dressed. The instructor is supposed to demonstrate over your clothes. Unfortunately, question #1 on the test required the students to be able to tell exactly where the instructor was working on my lower leg--something a little difficult to discern under a flowy black ankle-length skirt. For all anyone could tell through my wardrobe du jour, she could have been massaging the table. So up went the skirt, not to an immodest level, but high enough to reveal to the room rule my third of dressing for work: if the skirt isn't above the knee, neither are the pantyhose. Usually, I am sitting with my knees under a desk all day and I can get away with an 8-inch overlap of skirt and hose.
Worse yet, I think at some point while I lay prone on the massage table, a few people down at the foot of the massage table got an eyeful after the instructor determined my feet were too close together for her to demonstrate one of the techniques. My only consolation is that I think the students were too busy actually taking the test to notice. I could be wrong. After all, I was staring at the floor at the time.
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