Ever stumbled into the weird part of YouTube? No, not the ultra HD pimple-popping sessions, or the under-aged kids doing sexually suggestive ASMR, or the literal insect cage fights. I’m talking about baby massages.
Yup, I was on Al Gore’s Internet™ minding other people’s business when I learned that there is an industry of people making a living off of giving babies massages.
Oh, I’m sorry, was being carried around by people all day stressful and tiring? Shaddap, baby! You don’t even wipe your own butt!
You were spoonfed for all your meals. Not wanting to feed myself is the whole reason for choosing extra thicc milkshakes over ice cream on a cone. I can mainline that delicious dairy concoction in five seconds.
Anyway, there are only two babies I know who needs a massage. There’s the infant living in a two-bedroom apartment with five other siblings, a mom, their no-good daddy, and pedo uncle. And then there’s Benjamin Button. Who is neither baby nor button (as in a small knob used to fasten an article of clothing) but in fact a ninety-five-year-old man!
Calm down. Why am I shouting? Oh yeah, because people are paying big money to give babies massages. Their bones are made of literal butter —WHAT KNOTS ARE WE WORKING OUT?!
And of course, these moves have weird names like ‘Swedish milking’, ‘Indian milking’ and ‘combing the back.’ Listen, if anyone ever “combed my back” with their creepy clawed Freddy Krueger style fingers, I’m blowing my rape whistle.
Nightmare fuel. Gah!
Like, I honestly feel these massages be stressing the baby out more than it relaxes them.
Imagine you minding your business, just chilling in your bed, when God—yes, God—comes down from the sky and starts grabbing at you with his big ole god hands. THAT’S THE BABY’S PERSPECTIVE!
This poor child ain’t know Jack about Frost but you outchea being handsy. Lil Gerber went from floating in a dark bag of water for nine months to bright lights and hard surfaces. They barely used to that, but now the beings that provided life suddenly swoops down to Swedish milk their little froggy legs. You too would be screaming,
“what did I do to anger the gawds?”
You know what? I’m a fool. Don’t knock the hustle, join them. Why would I want to bust up my back massaging some hairy grown person when I could be charging an arm and a leg to do traditional ayurvedic baby massages.
And you know I already got my scam ready. “Sorry, parents aren’t allowed during the session. It stresses the patient and blocks their chakras”. Then, I go behind my curtain, glaze that baby like a Christmas ham, and spend the next twenty-five minutes watching YouTube on my phone.
Shout out to the YouTube algorithms out here helping to connect weirdos of all stripes and colours.
Award-winning Caribbean comedian, Onicia Muller’s weekly humour column, Just Being Funny is chicken soup for the naive sceptic’s soul. You can hire her to write anything from blogs and newsletters to
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