I'm sure glad Jesus loves everybody. Because I don't love *anybody* right now.

Which is funny, because, for the first three hours, my body was saying, "You're over the hump, you're gonna be okay."

Now that we're back from lunch, my body is saying, "If you cry you'll feel better."

The instructor won't stop talking about how great"Ell Ay" is which just reminds me of his "incredible" models who (I swear he said this) swallow swords and eat fire while modeling. And that makes me feel worse about myself as a figure model.

And Frenchinella is really serious about the time. Today, we came back from lunch and I was ready to go, but everybody was busy talking or finishing up their lunch so I figured I'd wait until it looked like people were ready to go.

Frenchinella walks up to me and says, "Um. Hasn't it been an hour?"

"Oh, yeah. Just--everyone's talking and stuff so I was gonna wait till people were more ready to get back to work."

"Well, if you don't get up there they'll just keep talking indefinitely," she said as she turned away toward her sculpture.

"Oh, I know!" I called feebly. "I just thought...! Y'know! I mean, I was *just thinking* how much I'd like to torture myself for a few extra minutes while you guys snack on your sandwiches!"

Nobody talks to me on the breaks so I never get a mental reprieve from the pose.

It's not that the pose is *painful*, it's that it's *exhausting*. Your body is saying, "Move. I'm very very tired and I don't want to stand like this anymore" and you have to say, "No."

"Please? I'm serious. I can't do this."

"Shut up, wimp."

It starts to make you go a little bit crazy. Like Chinese water torture. Which, for the record, I'm about to try just so I can see if I could endure it--see if modeling prepares you to deal with actual torture.

Am I going crazy?