For the longest time, I’ve adored working on feet and hands. Maybe it’s the short reflexology training I did—still hours and hours of practice that wired me to notice every little tendon, muscle, and joint. There’s something about long toes and fingers, the thin little muscles, the fleshy palms and soles… I just love it. With the right amount of force, it can feel extremely uncomfortable for clients in the moment, but the relief afterward is almost instant.

 Just wow, right?

So yes, I’ve recently discovered a new favourite—maybe even a new obsession. When a client comes in with neck and shoulder problems, I get genuinely excited. The crispiness I feel when I lean in with my elbow, the resistance at the base of the neck, that scraping sensation under the skin… even the sound of it gives me shivers. It’s like the body is singing in textures and vibrations, and I get to tune in.

I sometimes think I missed out on a lot of sensory play as a child, and maybe this is me catching up. Because honestly, the indescribable excitement I feel with every scraping noise, every release, every tiny shift under my hands—it feels like pure discovery every time.

Strange, eh? Or maybe not strange at all. Maybe this is just what happens when you fall in love with the hidden music of the body.

And it makes sense:

Feet & hands — My reflexology background tuned my brain to notice all the tiny nuances: the tendons, the little muscles, the way pressure radiates through. Plus, instant relief for the client = instant dopamine hit for me.

Neck & shoulders — This area is a goldmine for any massage therapist. There’s so much tension stored there, and when you hit that crispy, ropey band of fascia and it finally releases, it’s almost musical. The scraping sound and the vibration through my elbow? Not weird at all—many therapists secretly admit it’s oddly satisfying.

Cheeky note from your therapist:

When I say “crispy” or “scraping,” I promise it’s the good kind—the kind that melts tension and leaves you walking out lighter, looser, and grinning. Think less “ouch” and more “aaah.”