looking good
the journal of Michael Werneburg
twenty-seven years and one million words
Toronto, 2003.08.26
Today I ran into Andrea, one of the gang from the Davisville Physiotherapy outfit where I went routinely for three months back in the Winter. She seemed relaxed and happy from what she described as five months in Portugal and Spain.
She asked whether I'd found work, which is a neat trick - she'd told me that she'd had some 12-15 clients a day, and yet she remembered that I was unemployed even after having not seen me for six months. She also told me that my posture had improved, that I was 'looking good'. Coming from a physiotherapist who'd seen me without my shirt on at my flabbiest last Winter, I take that as a professional statement. And as a compliment.