Back when I was a massage therapist, I had great abs. I didn't work out or anything, but the stance I had to adopt was fairly disciplined and it couldn't help having an effect on my physique. Since then, however, I've noticed them disappearing very slowly. Most people who see me naked (and there are a lot) tend to think I'm being paranoid or fishing for compliments if I mention this, but I can see the difference. It's like they're still there, but they're getting softer and less defined. So I've been working on this recently.
A couple of weeks ago, I started up a personal fitness regime. I've been making up and freezing a bunch of smoothies at a time, then making myself earn each one by going through a vague fitness plan that I've set for myself. Forty press ups, forty abdominal crunches and forty leg ups - or whatever that last one is called. So that's ten of each. Then rest. Then repeat until forty have been done. More recently, I've upgraded that to 60 of each - so now it's four sets of fifteen each. I have absolutely no fat on my body (apart from that unwelcome layer that's starting to cover my abs) so I've added protein supplements to the smoothies.
All of which helps me feel better about myself when I go to do a class with The Edinburgh Art Group. And also, should help me handle the effort a bit more easily, when I travel all the way to Alloa with a case full of sketchpads and business cards and leaflets and charcoal and chalk and feedback books and stuff like that.
So... on Saturday, I went to Alloa. I've never been there before, so I had to check out the route in advance, but it was easy. A bus to Stirling, lasting a little over an hour, followed by another local bus. I go to Greenock a lot, where my cousin lives - and this trip was actually both shorter and simpler. The Alloa bus actually stopped just outside the main entrance to where the girls were staying.
I arrived more than two hours early, so had to kill a bit of time which wasn't the most fun I had all day. Every time I sat down - on a park bench or under a tree - it would start raining as soon as I tried to read or watch something on my laptop. But finally, the time got close and I retraced my steps to the venue, where I was sneaked in and hidden in the kitchen.
These are always fun moments. I love being smuggled into private venues, when a couple of the girls are keeping the surprise concealed from the rest of them. The subterfuge and fun of it all just adds to the event. This time, there was very little hiding space, because it was an open plan room, so I was actually reduced to crouching down behind the kitchen table, while the bride was brought in.
While I was waiting, I noticed a sign - just one of many home-made signs with obscure words and phrases that were scattered throughout the building - that simply said "Runkled" and I had to ask about that after I was introduced. Turns out it was simply a made-up word. I was mildly disappointed, because I had hoped it was a reference to Charlie Runkle from the Californication TV series.
For one of the early poses, I was asked to wear a horse's head mask and pose on all fours. This was one of those rubber things that completely covers the head, so for the duration of that pose I felt a little weird, but it was a laugh. I've had that response before to wearing a mask. It creates a sense of complete isolation - like I'm cut off entirely from the group and have no way of communicating or interacting at all. It's fun for a single pose and I'm entirely game for it, but I'm never sorry to take it off. In my feedback book at the end, one of the girls commented about it being a bad idea. I wouldn't go that far. Masks are cool, but sometimes they need to be used sparingly.
The cool thing about it, though - in this case - was the pictures that resulted from it. Most of the girls drew me like I was a man with a horse's head and those were cool (and slightly creepy) pictures, but my favourite one was the one where I was drawn completely like a horse. Albeit one with a very, very big head. As soon as I saw it, I thought it looked very friendly, and so I just felt compelled to make it the winner.
One of the other girls drew me with a scythe and a sort of halo, for some reason. For some reason, though, the other girls decided that the defining characteristic of this picture was the "tube of smarties". I've studied it a lot, but still can't figure out where that idea came from. It's beyond me. As far as I can tell, there's absolutely nothing there that looks like a tube of any sort - let alone a tube of smarties.
Another girl called me "G-Man". I've always been slightly disappointed at not having been given a name that could be abbreviated into a more casual form, but my cousin corrected that by introducing this nickname, a little over ten years ago. Not exactly a nickname, but it works for me. This is the first time anyone else has given me that name without first having heard my cousin use it. So it came about entirely independently of him.
I didn't get many pictures from this class, so I'd like to extend a request to all the girls attending it - if you read this, I'd appreciate copies of any of your pictures. It has belatedly occurred to me that most of the photographs I took of the drawings are from the same girl. Which means that she's being represented in this blog posting much more than any of her friends. In the spirit of fairness, I think I need some more pictures and photographs to balance that out.
Other props that were introduced for the poses were a very camp looking cowboy hat that made me feel like I was pretending to be Calamity Jane and a sort of pole with a kind of thing on the end. That's about as precise or as specific as I'm able to get with this thing. But I accepted the girls' request to pose with these props and those results were pretty cool, too. One interesting picture made it look like I was pole-dancing, which reminded me of some of the things that happened a couple of weeks ago at the Sapphire Rooms. On one of the days, I had a shot at pole dancing, myself. I couldn't resist the opportunity to try it out.
Before I left, I produced some of my brand new business cards and set them out in their brand new display holders, so anyone who wanted to get back in touch could have all my details and information. And one of the girls gave me a really cool bit of feedback. She told me that the class could very easily have been very sleazy if someone else had taken a different approach or a different attitude to it, but that I had instead made it fun and cheerful. I commented that I try very hard not to be sleazy, and then kind of laughed at myself. It just seemed amusing to me that I would have to try not to be sleazy. It would be more accurate to say that I try very hard to make the classes light-hearted and fun and cheerful. That kind of kicks any element of sleaze right out the window.
Afterwards, I was invited to stop for a beer and a coffee, and I got talking to one of the girls. She's going to visit Edinburgh very soon because she'll be performing in a band during the Festival, and I've been invited along to one of her shows. I definitely want to go along, but I never stopped to ask her where she's performing, what nights she'll be performing, what kind of music the band plays, what instrument she plays or anything at all. She's got my card, though, so I just have to hope she'll get in touch to give me some further details.
Finally, I headed off. A jacuzzi was being filled up as I was leaving and it looked very attractive, but the class was done and it was time to go. A bus back to Stirling, then another bus back to Edinburgh - and I didn't pass a single shop where I could anything decent to eat until I got back into town. And I was very hungry by then. Given the new fitness regime, I really should have had something healthy to eat, I suppose. It was a greasy kebab.
