doesn't feel like easy money
It’s late as I drag my suitcase up the stairs. I heave it into the corner and feel the pain shoot through my back. I’m abusing my body and it’s reminding me. I glance in the mirror as I wipe the makeup off my skin and watch as dark circles appear beneath my eyes. My clothes fall in a heap on the floor. Tomorrow… tomorrow I’ll do something with the mess. Tomorrow I’ll be productive.
My eyes are heavy as I wriggle under the heavy blankets. I stretch out and listen to the crackle of my joints: ankle, shoulder, and hip… my body is worn out. Muscles knot as I attempt to crack my back. I know it won’t work. Back problems come with the territory. Arched pelvis and stilettos come with a price.
I wish I could sleep… soon. My thoughts linger on the week behind me. It was a good week. Good people, good club... but I was at the bar for almost 70 hours this week. Doesn’t feel like easy money to me.
My eyes are heavy as I wriggle under the heavy blankets. I stretch out and listen to the crackle of my joints: ankle, shoulder, and hip… my body is worn out. Muscles knot as I attempt to crack my back. I know it won’t work. Back problems come with the territory. Arched pelvis and stilettos come with a price.
I wish I could sleep… soon. My thoughts linger on the week behind me. It was a good week. Good people, good club... but I was at the bar for almost 70 hours this week. Doesn’t feel like easy money to me.
posted by Ryann @ 02:42
1 Comments:
At 10:01 AM,
Anonymous said…
Some dancers of many kinds have been known for it even know it (as long as it's got a creative expression attached) it is one of a woman's best excersizes, perhaps side parts of the occupations or stuff in life that conflicts with ones discapline('s). That above page was done by a quazi-dancer (linked to dancer).
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