Went to some kind of sports therapist today (not my idea, a doctor sent me) to find out what, in anything, is wrong with my ankles. The whole event reminded me of a dog show in a way that was totally hilarious. "Walk. Stop. Turn around. Walk." She even wrote down an evaluation that sounded much like the ones they do at dog shows.
I was told to perform a number of unnatural acts in a natural way, and tried my best. She also took a video of me walking. Seeing one's ass in a video is unhealthy (or maybe healthy): I feel like stopping eating forever. Maybe should go on a liquid diet of sparkling wine and rum.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005
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