A morning of soccer, my body aches. I treat myself to a massage, communal style. A whispering masseuse  directs me to my waiting bed, among several others. I sit on its edge, a steaming tub of water soothes my tired feet, calloused and sore. She stands behind me and holds a small patterned apron across my chest as I breath deeply and struggle to remove my damp sports bra. Strings pull tightly under my arms and across my back, and then relax as she completes the knot, holding the apron in place.

My neck, shoulders, and back exposed; I am calm, my breathing deep, eyes closed, head bowed, and hair tousled. I had removed the rubber bands, leaving them in my car’s dusty cup holder, forgetting I would need them to pull my hair up and away from my neck and shoulders. I wished for a moment that I had remembered to bring at least one hair tie with me. But before my thought is…