My back hurts...and other pregnant complaints

I have some stress in my life right now that just comes from being pregnant. You know- I'm hormonal and huge and have to be careful about everything I eat (and boy, would I like a big beer, some sushi and a Xanax). Most of all- my back hurts. When your stomach sticks out two feet in front of your size F (that's right people, read it and weep) boobs, it starts to take a toll on the old back. Plus, under normal circumstances my back always aches. Whenever I get a non-pregnant massage I always hear, "Why are your shoulders so tight?". My shoulders are extra tight these days from holding up the boulders on my chest with never thick enough bra straps and from shoulder shaking bouts of crying each and every day. Obviously, I was thrilled to see that the Spa at our Cancun resort offered a pregnancy massage. They advertised a soothing pregnancy massage with a body pillow to support a growing mother's body. Perfect, yes? So, I planned to get on on the Monday before leaving so I would have something to look forward to for the whole trip. On Saturday however, I was lured poolside by the promise of FREE fifteen minutes shoulder and back massages. I cannot resist. It is not in my DNA. Cheap and free massage is in my DNA, however, I learned from watching my mother. I have subjected myself to many unusual massage locales to get the best deal (ask about the massage I got after hiking the Inca trail in Peru for four days...not a pretty scene). After my blissful and free poolside rub down, the spa manager offered me a "can't be refused deal": get the pregnancy massage today for almost 50% off AND they'll throw in a regular Swedish massage for Ted at 30% off as well. I should have been suspect but I am a desperate sucker and have I mentioned how much my back hurts? It all started off well enough- they showed us to our separate locker rooms, we got plush towel robes and slippers (Except Ted got a little girls size four that he tried to squeeze his feet into because he is a good sport), they sat us on plushy couches and then were showed to our couples massage room. Then our masseuses arrived. Mine a male, Teds a female. He laid me on my back and was about to get to work when I suggested that perhaps I should lay on my side (at a large 24 weeks pregnant, back sleeping is no longer recommended). So, I flipped on my side ( more like struggled to turn over) and he started to get to work again). It was at that point that I asked if they had a pillow for me ( you know? The BODY pillow from the brochure?!!!). He looks around the room, grabs a pleather 5 x 5 pillow from a couch in the corner and hands it to me. I try to protest but see that I am getting nowhere and hug the thing to my chest. Did I mention that the room is hot as blazers? ("Hot as blazers" is an old favorite saying of my grandma Marilyn that probably started when she hit menopause. Even with an ocean breeze constantly drifting through her living room, she was always "hot as blazers"). So I've got my gigantic chest sweating all over the pleather couch throw pillow and my legs are sticking together as well. Relaxing! I take this for about fifteen minutes because I hate to complain in a lovely spa while my husband is trying to enjoy his rub down BUT - Holy Moses, this was torture! Finally Ted's masseuse comes to the rescue and grabs a thick synthetic blanket from somewhere, folds it up and sticks in between my legs. Immediate increased inner thigh sweat production. This is exactly the point where I am asked to flip back over. So I have to unstick the pleather pillow from my chest and get the enormous blanket out from between my legs and manage to flip my beached whale self over without the sheet falling off of my naked body. Easy! The other half of this massage includes one foot getting rubbed. No arms. Other foot wasn't massaged on the other side. No way in hell this guy has ever given a pregnancy massage before. Still, I debate saying anything to management because I don't want to get him in trouble. I am relieved when the massage ends and decided that, yes, it is time to start standing up for myself and I complain. It's the woman from the pool who sold me the massage at the front desk. "How was it?" she asks with a gigantic smile. "Not so good", I reply. "He was a very nice man, but I think this was his first pregnancy massage, no?" "No. Alejandro has been doing professional massage for over ten years" (I doubt that). "I'm sure of that but this is probably one of the first pregnancy massages, right?" "No", she insists. She offers me a feedback form, but explains to me that since this was a special deal, there is not much she can do for me (I am such a sucker). I fill it out, we leave. Next day, I get a call from the spa saying that they are sorry about my massage. I am waiting to hear what they are offering me in return but it turns out they are only offering an apology. Foiled! I make my peace with this and Ted and I head out for our day. Several hours later, we decide to brave the main pool - where all of the ridiculous action is. Ted wanted to get a drink from the swim up bar. We swim up, take our seats and the bartender comes over to take our order, " Que quieres?" he asks. He takes Ted's order and moves to the other side of the bar. "Did you see who that was?", Ted exclaims. OMG- it was my masseuse. He comes back and tries to convince me to get a drink with alcohol...he can't see that I am pregnant and he doesn't recognize us...even with Ted's "grief beard". I smile at him and ask, "trabajes en el spa?" (Do you work in the spa?) "Sometimes," he replies with an equally large smile. Then he goes through a back door and disappears. Ted turns around and sees the spa pimp poolside luring in customers again. We decide that I should confront her - over ten years of massage experience my tush!!! I swim across the pool, lug myself out, march up to her and smile. She smiles sarcastically back at me and simultaneously pretends she doesn't know me. I am one of three pregnant people in the whole resort...maybe not the first one to complain, I think. "I am the pregnant lady from the spa yesterday." "I know," she says with the fake smile . Then a long pause. "Well, I just wanted to say that my masseuse is tending bar in the middle of the pool "No," she laughs "Alejandro only works in the spa". " Well, I just asked him and he said that, indeed, he also works in the bar." "Today is Alejandro's day off." she laughs and assures me. "No, he is right over there.", I explain, but of course, he has disappeared. I look like a liar! Then, adding insult to injury she says, "I know, we Mexicans all look alike.". Oh no she didn't! ...but,oh yes she did! She has the upper hand...they do not all look alike. Alejandro looks like Alejandro - the bartender/masseuse (could he be another doppleganger?)!!! At this point, my stress is now through the roof! My spa lady gives me a fake empathy look, hands me a bottle of anti-stress lotion and we part ways.  No relief had....not even the satisfaction of the upper hand.  After that, I need a massage....does anyone  know of a good deal?