DING! Round 7

Many entries ago, I don’t know when, and I can’t remember where I first heard it, but I recall learning from a sound and solid source, that every 7 years you get a new body. Not literally of course you silly things, but that is how long it takes for every cell and molecule thingy to turn itself over.

Yesterday I found myself slipping into body number 7. Given the punishment inflicted on body #4 and the slightly more restrained excesses I subjected #5 too, I think the old girl looks rather fine.

Of course a little spackle here and fresh coat of paint there never hurt anyone. But the bones, as it were, are solid and the curb appeal is, if I may, given that it is MY birthday, above average.

I did get a little staged today thanks to IronMan who, after taking me to my new favourite French restaurant, Batifole (getting me wickedly intoxicated on Ricard) pampered this princess a little.

First, we went off to Truefitt and Hill for a haircut and hot shave. Now, I like to think I am little fussy when it comes to shaving. I have my badger brush and shaving soap and like to soften the skin a little with a hot towel. But this was amazing! I need to get one of the Truefitt chairs (and Peter to come over every 3 days) so I can lie flat while my man servant repeatedly applies hot towels, ointments, creams and lotions to my face before shaving me not twice, but thrice. Even now I can’t find a rough patch and my man Peter says it should be good for at least 2 days! Snap. I am definitely doing that again for CJs wedding next summer.

Post shave, and with post haste, we booted over to the King Edward hotel for a massage. For all the good my cycling has done my thighs and buttocks, it has left them riddled with knots. My shoulders were not much better for being hunched over handle bars and a desk for the majority of the day. Mark worked away at them for 90 minutes though, and aside from the odd squeak from me, I left feeling much better.

My concern with this new body, keeping with the home theme, is the shingles. I fear the genes of MB and Graham Cosby are starting to take root. Or is it lose their roots? I noticed a few thin spots on top in a couple of pictures from our Kilimanjaro trip. I would like to think that is doesn’t bother me, but there is a little streak of vanity in all of us and my streak is just a stitch larger than most I suppose.

It just isn’t far that I have more hair growing on my back now that I do my head. I exaggerate of course, but why can’t these new growths get together and move north? Whenever I ask myself that, all I hear is my grade 9 business teacher, Mr. Boron saying “life isn’t fair” when you said “but that isn’t fair” when he gave you a bad grade.

Kitkat threatens that he is going to get restylane injections when the time comes and although I have not yet been driven to a hair replacement therapy place, but I do take notice when their ads are on the radio.