Uhuhuh ...ahahah - stop please!!! :)

It was a perfectly normal day at work. No full moon. No bad omens. No warning signs whatsoever.

And thenLornawalked in.

“Hello my dear!” she chirped, already sounding like someone who owns at least six teapots. “I’ve finally decided to try Reflexology. First time in my entire life!”

Apparently, her girlfriends had been campaigning for years. Daily updates. Testimonials. Before-and-after stories. Tea-fueled TED Talks about feet changing destinies. Eventually, Lorna surrendered.

“I told myself, Lorna, if your friends talk about it nonstop and the idea of your feet fixing your life intrigues you this much… why not book the appointment immediately?”

And voilà. There she was. Shoes off. Destiny imminent.

She settled onto the massage bed like she was preparing for a luxury flight: pillows adjusted, neck aligned, legs positioned with Olympic precision. Relaxing music played. Deep breathing began. Eyes closed. Calm achieved.

Everything was going beautifully.

For about twelve seconds.

Suddenly—

“Oh GEEEZ!”

Pause.

“Oh—no—wait—it doesn’t hurt!”

Another pause.

“I think… it’s… tickling? YES. That’s it. It tickles! You’ve discovered the most ticklish square millimeter of my foot!”

I apologized, as professionals do, while mentally preparing for the possibility of a reflexology-related concussion.

“No no, no apologies!” she said. “I’ve just realized something shocking. I have extremely sensitive feet… and I had no idea.”

Welcome to reflexology, Lorna.

We tried again. Relaxation. Breathing. Calm. Serenity.

Her face, however, said:I am bracing for impact.

She lay there like someone waiting for a jump scare in a horror movie.

Then it happened again.

“Uhuh! Ha! Ojuojuoju! Eeeee! Hahaha—how unfair my feet are being!”

At this point, I was convinced one of her feet would launch itself directly into my face. I instinctively leaned back—just in time.

Because suddenly Lorna exploded into the loudest, most uncontrollable laughter I have ever witnessed on a massage table.

“OHHH BROTHER!” she cackled. “I had NO IDEA how much stress I was carrying! I’m basically a walking nerve!Everything you touch reacts! My whole system is screaming for attention!”

I was laughing so hard I had folded myself in half, gasping out,

“So… do you still want to hear what your feet are trying to say?”

She did.

Oh, she absolutely did.

Despite the tickling, the laughter, and the near-foot-to-face incident, Lorna stayed committed. And by the end of the session, something magical happened. Her body softened. The tension melted. Her poor, overworked waitress feet—after 10–12 hours a day of standing—finally felt heard.

She walked out declaring she felt “like a butterfly.”

Her words, not mine.

The lightness stayed with her for days.

The laughter stayed with us forever.

Lorna now comes every two to three weeks. We’re friends. And yes—we still laugh about The Great Ticklish Reflexology Incident.

Because sometimes healing doesn’t arrive quietly.

Sometimes it shows up laughing hysterically.

Your feet can tell your story.

And if you listen carefully, they might help you write a brand-new chapter.

Just… maybe warn your reflexologist if they’re ticklish. 😄