me on the other hand, well, where do i start... having had my own fair share of massages in my time, i was warned by mum that edith takes no prisoners. she was not a delicate flower - despite her tiny appearance, and that i should let her know in advance of any problematic areas... well, there was no need. it was as if she knew what was troubling me, and she fixed it. she worked every part of my aching and aging body, and i was and the brink of deepest relaxation and excruciating pain for well over an hour. it was magical.
afterwards, she prayed for me. i'm not a big prayer, me, so that was something really strange. she told me things about my future that she couldn't have known were there, as when i probed my mum after, she assured me she'd never mentioned any of those things. edith is very spiritual, like all holistic therapists are, but she was very religious - very. she made me pray with her, and she cried over me, after telling me that my heart was black from negativity, and that once i forgive those for whom i hold hate, my life will start again. *cough* thanks mum. it wasn't awkward at all though, she had certainly had her way with me first so all i could do was smile and nod at the final stages. mum asked me after i'd finished ranting and raving to her later if i would i go back again - despite the crazy. well, that was simple. for those hands, heck yes i would.
that afternoon, i had a date with my wardrobe. mum had been hinting for months that while i was here, i had to properly sort through my old clothes and bits and bobs, and make sense of her 'spare room' so she could... turn it into a gym, or whatever it is that parents do once their beloved children finally move out. for about four hours i pulled old cardigans, dresses, jackets and tops out of drawers, cupboards, from under my bed, and had to make the brutal decision to cull or keep. with boyfriend acting as the devil on my shoulder, very little of my loot was actually kept, and instead was divided into "charity", "hand-down" and "throw". by the end of that day, there were five or so charity bags full of discarded (more likely none of it fit my +10kg frame anymore) clothes, plus three bags full of bags and accessories, and two of hand-me-downs for my teeny-tiny friends. there was only one for the bin, which was mostly made up of tacky bras and undies that no-one should've ever owned in the first place. (side note: later in the week i attempted to cull my teddy collection. the final outcome there was a lot different to above; three for charity - to go direct to a charity, and one to keep. mother was happy with this outcome)
exhausted, we jumped in the car and headed down to the charity shop to dump it all. as i sqeeeezed those bags into the tiny holes, i got a tiny bit emoshe; that was all my hard earned money - ages 18 to 21 being thrown away without a second thought! the final purge was good though, and knew it was all for a good cause - my mother's sanity. after the chazza, we headed to the local shopping centre (where boyfriend bought me some sweet shoes to make up for the ones i wanted not fitting!). i had a coffee date with a new-old friend, louise, who also was the new owner of all the hand-me-downs - mostly cos she's teeny tiny, and partly cos she's my 'little sister' and that's the rules. we sat and chatted until the shops had all shut around us, then it was starting to feel like bed time. oh, it was only 5:30.that night mum had made a deeeelicious kangaroo stir fry for dinner (controversial), and it was devoured in minutes. there was also yummy chocolate i can't get in the uk, which did not last long. for a 'not very busy day', i certainly hadn't stopped moving, and was bloody tired - those infamous words. boyfriend and i caught up on homeland then took ourselves to bed for yet another early night. those were becoming all too regular, but bloody necessary.
day three was rainy, emotional and oily. what a combo, am i right?
