*3 weeks ago , the cosmic forces of the universe conspired to slap me.
With clockwork discipline , I stepped in , lining the collar of her Chanel tweed jacket with a 30x20cm plastic sleeve and the necessary towel before ushering the client to the back wash area. This symbiotic relationship had to be observed with what Gordon Ramsay would call "feminine touch" and fineness. Failure to do so would result in very dire consequences. Often the foam from freshly colored hair would choke around the neck rest and possibly stain these only-dry-cleanable clothes.
It was my first day at work and the hairdresser I was assisting thought a chair might mitigate the woes of standing but I was now seated further and had to bend lower , shaping myself into an invisible cage. Posture was paramount at this point and the obvious choice was made.
Yet, a simple twist at the hip for a pump of shampoo made my legs disconnect from the torso and I was left hanging on to the dutiful towel shelves that were more sturdy than my own body. The call to arms and assume responsibility was now apparent for I could get better or get worse
With closed eyes and whatever savings I had left , scribbled my curly signature. Such an expensive gamble out of desperation with no guarantees in the clause , I paid for membership and PT at Pure Fitness - the swanky new gym across the street at Knights Bridge.
I worked out 3x a week with Dave , an ex-commando from the Singapore Armed Forces . For the first time I had pecs thicker than a pancake , along with all the yummy toppings needed to look descent without my shirt on. Plus on a social level , I was even showered with compliments from colleagues at work and friends.
Within a month , we completed the 15 sessions and I was finally separated from the comforting nature of the womb with all workouts fed to being on my own in this iron jungle. But such is the transitory nature of life and many times I did arrive in the gym with pent up excitement after a hard days work only to be clueless as to what my workout should be.
Then one day it all came crashing down (again?!?), in retrospect whatever the timeline demanded had set scaffolds to ascend and transcend old stories with ones that would empower me . Many have commented on the flatness of chest , and in reaction to that , I benched pressed several times a week , with poor form just to get shit done and left the gym with a treacle like sensation in the neck. Foam rolling - check , dry needling - check , trigger point therapy - check , all good but at best provided only hours of provisional relief . Shortly after,I developed gastroesophageal reflux disease (GERD) and gastritis from the consumption of pain-killers prescribed by a GP for a bone spur in my palm. It was a stupid gamble.
Curled up in a fetal position on my mattress feeling so sad...so anxious...If I was going to die experiencing the incendiary effects of napalm in my gut. As flames leave residual ash in its memory, i found tarry stools in the loo . With these 3 reasons I cancelled my membership and was left to question the ambiguity of it all.
In the next and final chapter , I meet my heroes. Stay with me.