So my massage yesterday included a reflexology session. She took one look at me and said, "I think I'll do your feet. I think you need it."
After twenty minutes of lying on hot stones, my colour had come back and felt calm and light. God it was magic. Then she analysed me through my feet.
Massage lady: "You're under some serious stress. Your feet have taken major strain."
Me: (with face in mattress) Hmmpf uhuh hmmpf.
Massage lady: "Your liver is suffering, as are your kidneys, and your solar plexus."
Me: "hmmph - what's a solar plexus?"
Massage lady: "The area beneath your heart that carries all your emotions. It's basically fucked."
Me: "Oh dear. That is not good."
So she even put this new machine all over my feet. It was fantastic. I bought some cream from her to balance my solar plexus. It's all about nursing my solar plexus right now. I have solar plexus problems.
To add insult to injury, I think its best I let the German go right now. I won't say 'dump' because it sounds so derogatory. I'm taking him out to dinner tomorrow night to tell him. I think he already senses this, as he was rather tearful on the phone this morning.
Welcome to my Shakepearen tragedy. It's fun being me. It's real fun.