Five hundred small mech figurines, intricately painted.

My body? A temple. I treat it as such.
My long, sinuous arms, oiled each morning as I emerge from my bath of teak oil and herbs.
My legs, powdered with ground brick and dried with a fox's hide.
My regimen: taxing. I demand much from myself because I provide much from myself.
Every inch of my frame proves effort, determination, and a perfect tan.
I look like a lacquered Japanese cabinet. Inside this cabinet?
Five hundred small mech figurines, intricately painted.
The scale? 1:30, of course. My body is a Japanese cabinet.

My feet are large scones. Are you saying my feet are bloated?
Take a bite and taste how wrong you are. Open my cabinet.
My body is infinite. And to what end?