West End Winch

Oh God. Oh God oh God oh God. Witch can barely walk.

There's a saying that I've always hated. A stupidly obvious statement. A pointless exercise in speech. It's so ridiculously inane that it renders itself completely redundant by the time it's been said. In fact, silence would be more enlightening. It goes something like this:

"I'm not as young as I used to be."

I am really feeling that phrase tonight.

After an entire day of high kicks, backbends and drag runs (yes, you heard me right - I think drag runs are making a comeback), I am so stiff that normal procedures such as negotiating stairs and getting up out of a chair have become highly complicated, advanced tasks. I'm going to need a winch to get myself into bed tonight.

It seems that these days, I can even injure myself without moving. For example:

Today at work we had just been taught a fairly difficult dance sequence. The young people didn't flinch at it, but I noticed I wasn't the only one grimacing every time we had to do that last knee-slide. Still, I got through it without much ado. Ten minutes later I was standing at the side, minding my own business, when something in my left knee went Bang! and I felt a sharp pain shoot up through my leg, as if someone was stabbing me from the inside. A few people heard the bang and asked if I was alright. Embarrassedly, albeit through watery eyes, I laughed it off. I felt silly. Who hurts themselves just by standing still?

I'd done all the hard stuff. There's not much hope for me if standing is going to start causing me injuries.

By the end of the day I was a wreck. I felt grubby, too. You know the pattern: makeup, sweat, dirt, sweat, more makeup to cover the sweat... Unfortunately the makeup mixed with the thin film of grime that my face had acquired after a day in the studio and I looked as if I was wearing a foundation that was one shade too dark for me. My hair was extra witchy today as well, which didn't help. Frizzy, dirty and a little bit limp-y. Not a good combo.

The show's looking fantastic. I wish I did.

I'm going to have to pace myself. At this rate I won't last a week, let alone a year.