Sooo I decided to get a massage! My conscience felt a slight twang, because I am a mere child who is still offloading her parents and then there are all these poor starving children in underdeveloped countries. But yea, aching muscles trumped guilty conscience, so off I went to Bliss Massage! I trawled the local forums for a bit, and some people recommended this place. It's supposed to be cheaper than average, $45 an hour for a whole body massage? It's at Ann Siang Road, which is really close to Maxwell Market.
I've never had a full body massage before. I've only had a leg massage in Bangkok, and that was when I was 15 or something - entirely too young and sedentary to appreciate my youthful and sturdy, pain-free muscles.
I was instructed to remove everything and put on a black thong - unisex, she deliberately mentioned. Yea, just in case I was a post-op tranny, huh. While I was being rubbed down, I was quite conscious of my naked ass: and also glad that I am not morbidly obese. If I were a masseuse I wouldn't want to massage an obese person. But neither would I want to massage a stick-thin person too. I'll feel like I'm smashing her bones in.
So she asked me if she could massage my chest. My immediate thought was: Of course you are massaging my chest! I MUST get my money's worth! I didn't respond with such rabid enthusiasm lest she thought I was hungry for some boob-groping (which wasn't the case, of course. She basically just rubbed my decolletage), so I just responded, "Ke yi ah, ke yi." (Can, can.)
She then asked me, "Ni you mei you shi ba sui?" The tone of the question lay somewhere between the increduilty of "Are you even eighteen?!" and the neutrality of "Are you eighteen?"
"Wo jin nian shi ba sui." (I'm eighteen this year.)
"Wa, zen me nian qing ah!" (So young!)
At least I can be assured that I have a young nubile body that looks my age. Ha! Her reaction was almost identical as that time when I first went Brazillian waxing. My waxer must have thought I was a really kinky sixteen year old, when really, I was (and still am) just a chaste teenager with too much money, subjugated by the onslaught of female magazines propogating the merits of a hairless nether region.
Well, it was good. My shoulder muscle (the one connecting the neck and the shoulder) has never felt more pliable. Val used to conduct the shoulder muscle tension test: press and feel. The harder it is, the more tense you are. The last time she did that to me, she was like, "Whoa, why is your shoulder so stiff? Is it because you are exercising or what?" Yea, I have rock-hard shoulder muscles, hohoho.
Anyway I slaved till about 2 am in the morning and I made a skirt.
It looks somewhat like this, only of a slightly more modest length. I was inspired by the Topshop bandage skirt. It's probably outmoded by now, seeing how I last saw it on sale in Suntec, but I figured it's a pretty good basic that can be paired with all manners of white tops, of which I have recently accrued four.
Pictures of it when I feel skinnier/am prepared to wear a girdle!
Random insertions:
1. 10km timing 52:23, woot! It will only get better!
2. My mum lost my pedometer. She lost it the day I lent it to her. I had only used the thing for a day lor. Meh.
3. I think I like my beef dry and overdone as in burger patties, because bloody red meat makes me feel like a cannibal.
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