đź’Ş
Two years ago I strained my feet jumping around my living room doing the HIIT exercises recommended by a YouTube channel. When I asked my husband, Jon, to massage my strained feet, he pulled on the toes, a signature move he claims is essential for releasing stagnation. But my right foot was so weakened by the jumping that when Jon pulled he induced a “Jones stress fracture” (also known as a “Jon’s stress fracture”) and landed me in a walking boot. I recovered, but my feet have never been the same and I now require a mode of massage that is safe. Which is how I came to know and love muscle guns. I’d seen such devices before, at Crunch Fitness on the Upper West Side specifically, where personal trainers use them on unwitting first-time clientele who lay on tables in the center of the weight room to be pounded and publicly humiliated into orgasmic muscular release post-workout. But because the personal trainers at Crunch are universally to be avoided, I never thought to try the guns they love. Then one day I saw a half price “Theragun” in the checkout line at Marshalls. I impulsively snatched it and threw it in my basket. At home I fired it up and gently began caressing my feet. The sensation is less pleasurable than a real massage but the next day, as if by magic, my feet were healed.
Nov 16, 2022

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