My ambition was to be a shop assistant, selling fashionable clothes to modern women, but my parents had other ideas and I couldn’t disappoint them. They were so proud when I was accepted into the geisha school.
Now, instead of a smart uniform, I wear these traditional clothes to work. It takes hours to get dressed, and this elaborate hairstyle is a nightmare in the slightest breeze. Luckily my own face is hidden behind the painted mask, so none of my old school friends recognise me when I click-clack along the street under a paper parasol.
Despite hating it I am good at my job, but I have a secret – beneath my kimono I am wearing pink jeans. As soon as the clients leave, I drop my geisha rôle to practise yoga, although I can’t do a proper headstand without messing up this stupid hair.