Not a good morning for fatty

WiFi has been off all night so this morning was pretty boring while I was having breakfast. The waiter is so anxious. He runs over to ask if I’m ok every time I move. I did spot a weird looking lizard and a chipmunk though!

We were supposed to climb Sigiriya rock today but I’ve been panicking all night about it due to my diabolical fitness levels. Nala said we should look and make a decision from there.

No. Thank. You.

Want the full Sri Lanka trip in one place? Read my complete Sri Lanka roundup here.

I was a bit disappointed in myself because I usually like a good challenge but I’d be more disappointed if I started and didn’t finish. You know, due to death. Fatty failure number one.

We then had a quick visit to Henry Batiks which is a ‘factory’ where they make cotton sheets with pictures on using wax and paint. Quite clever really. I hate these things though because you’re taken there by a guide who is clearly getting some commission and then you’re expected to buy something. Long story short I am now the owner of this lovely peacock.

We drove back and went to the spa. I noticed hundreds of stray dogs this morning. Literally. That’s not an exaggeration. They were lay in the middle of the road without a care in the world. Didn’t even move for cars. Crazy.

Talking about crazy. Now comes the interesting part. The spa. Up until now the people I’ve met have spoken very good English. Not so much in this spa. I was told I had the upgraded package and shown into a cubicle and just told ‘change.’ Not into what but just change. She finally brought me a piece of cloth. It didn’t even meet in the middle. Fatty fail number two. Had to ask for a bigger piece of cloth. Then I couldn’t fasten it and the woman just grabbed it off me and said ‘I close my eyes.’ That was the last of the privacy.

The led me into a little spa room. Nothing fancy just a couple of tables and a weird contraption. More on this later. She sat me down and rubbed what looked like balsamic vinegar in my hair and did a sit up shoulder massage.

Then she asked me to lie face up on the table. This is where things got a bit uncomfortable. She was not bothered about where she touched/grabbed. I lay there thinking ‘please don’t touch my vagina.’ Turns out she couldn’t read minds.

It was an unusual style of massage to say the least. Lots of rubbing, fine but then there were the punches. She punched my palms and my ankles. Nowhere else. I’m really not sure why. She had also been warned about a big bruise I have on my arm from walking into something. She rubbed this part the hardest and for the longest time.

Over we go to the back. This was where the modesty really left the building. She basically screwed up the towel and just shoved it where the sun doesn’t shine.

Now for the next part. The steam bath. Sounds nice right? Wrong. She stuck me in what can only be described as a wooden iron lung with a fire underneath it. I had to sit frog legged to prevent third degree burns. I’m not joking either. My head was out of the box but the rest of me was locked in. Trust me I tried to open it but there was no way of getting out from the inside. Once again safety fails. She didn’t even give me a safe word. I honestly was waiting for the magician to enter and cut me in half! She then put a cloth over my head so the steam could reach my face. So now I’m completely covered. And to be honest scared. Maybe I was tonight’s hog roast? Though she did sit and keep asking if I was ok. She did seem very sweet and caring. Eventually she opened the coffin and I arose.

Now on to the ‘upgraded’ part. I was led across the garden to a shed with a wooden table and rack with a bowl hanging from a string at the head end. I lay down and then for 30 minutes she dripped and drizzled oil onto my forehead and hair. Again absolutely no explanation. There were geckos on the ceiling. She asked me the English name. I told her. She said no it wasn’t. When I had done I squeezed between the bed and the wall to go back to the changing room. This was where fatty failure number three occurred. The lady said ‘I also used to be fat and struggle to get through things.’ Thanks love. She then offered me a green tea. I politely declined. She patted my love handles and told me it would be healthy for me. Also my underwear was not in the place I left it.

Just as I thought it was over, I mean I was dressed and had my stuff out of the locker. I was led into a little office with doctors equipment in. The guy in there said there were three body types and he could tell mine just from feeling my pulse. I got a mixture of ‘pitta’ and ‘kapha.’ Turns out that’s fatty failure number four. It was my pulse that gave those attributes away was it?