There was a yoga class this morning where I basically subjected myself to muscular torture for 60 minutes, discovering that all my tendons and ligaments feel two inches too short. I staggered to the car to get whisked off to a massage, facial, and pedicure.
The lady giving the massage was crazy strong, and I was involuntary tensing whenever she pushed too deep into a muscle, which only made her push harder. It was a downhill battle. I chose a nail colour in a state of exhaustion and relief that the massage part was over, but when I next convinced my abs to tense enough so that I could see my toes, they weren't that colour. The colour choosing part must've been some sort of formality, but they did have pretty tiny flowers painstakingly drawn on. I felt really bad that someone had invested so much time in nail art when I'm probably going to be a clumsy oaf and chip the paint in a few days' time.
I could, though, really get used to this sort of life.
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