It's 30 degrees outside and 53% humidity. Time for... The Stairs Of Doom!
On the way there I see a house with yellow caution tape all over it. This would be because of the men in blue moon suits and heavy duty gas masks. Yarg! ASBESTOS!
This house is diagonally opposite my stairs. I lick my finger and hold it skyward. I deduct stairs are up-wind therefore safe as houses. Or something.
Today I do 25 sets. That's 575 steps. I am awesome! I am She-Ra!
Walk home and get camera. Walk back to railway, being sure to hold breath on way past stinky asbestos house. I sit at the bottom of the stairs and get ready to take a photo. My feet are stuck up on the bottom step and I'm leaning back like I'm in stage three labour. Police car rolls by and gives me the hairy eyeball. I can't believe they don't stop and ask me what I'm doing. Intelligence must indicate no terrorist would be caught dead in a red straw hat and tie-dyed singlet.
Two railway workers walk past on the tracks. 'I've never seen that before,' one remarks. I want to tell him I am documenting my pain but feel that would be too existential for this hour of the morning.
***
I have a roast lamb sandwich for lunch. Note that fat always looks less gross when brown. I decide this applies equally to my thighs.
It's Fake Tan Day!
I buy a middle of the range tanning lotion, shower and apply liberally. Smells like chocolate. Mmmm ... chocolate.
Then the stinging starts. It is awful. I grab the bottle and read the directions. 'Do not apply to freshly shaved skin' it advises. No kidding. My mother (who is visiting) thinks this is screamingly funny, which somehow makes the pain worse.
What to do? I can't walk around with one brown leg and one pasty leg. It would be like parking your Volkswagen next to a Porsche!
Pain is good. Didn't Arnie say that? I grit my teeth and do the other leg, determined not to cry like a girl.
A flamboyant friend of mine who knows more about cosmetics than I ever will in this lifetime suggested exfoliating before applying fake tanning lotion. To this I say, isn't shaving your legs with a blunt razor the same thing? Damn sure I stepped out of the shower with less skin on my legs than when I went in.
Conclusion: Transforming one's self into a sun-tanned goddess is problematic.
Harps have pedals? I thought all they required was a set of digits.
ReplyDeleteBig harps have pedals to enable the playing in different keys. It's complicated.
ReplyDeleteHow hilarious brown fat is sexy!!! Gawd, almost died laughing.