If You Knew My Back, You’d Know My Back Ain’t Right in The Head
I don’t get it.
By my calculations, my back should be the happiest back in the world. I’ve always been careful not to “spoil” my back by buying it toys every time we pass by the toy aisle or giving it candy before breakfast (except on Christmas).
Plus, I’ve never been disrespectful to my back by eating other animal’s backs in front of it, like chicken backs and such.
Still, it balks at the simplest commands and freezes up at the slightest provocation.
If my back were a window, it would be painted shut.
My husband, 37, thinks my faulty back is my fault as he pointed out last night:
Your back isn’t getting any better because you slam your heals down when you walk.
Do you think I should re-learn how to walk then?
Maybe I should just go back to crawling, do you think that would help?
You should just walk without slamming your heals on the ground and without locking your knees.
So you’re saying I walk like Frankenstein?
Well, thank goodness for that!
Because Frankenstein walks with his arms straight ahead and you walk with your arms . . . uh, well let me see you walk again . . . Yeah, you walk with your arms dangling by your sides.
Well, you walk with your hands dangling next to your knees.
I’ve never made any secret about my arms being disproportionately long.
I wish you would.
OK, honestly? The conversation didn’t go exactly like this word for word. I reorganized it a little so I had all the good lines. But you get the gist.
If 37 Says I Can Re-Learn to Walk, Then, By Golly, I CAN Re-Learn to Walk
Maybe I’ll make a YouTube video of 37 coaching me re-learning how to walk. I realize he’s not a physical therapist or an occupational therapist, as such, but he’s a darn good golfer and has helped me out in the past with my golf swing. Plus, 37 knows how to walk, I’ve seen him do it with my own eyes several times.
Come to think of it, there’s nothing 37 can’t do when he puts his mind to it. He is a mechanical engineer, you see, which means he is able to figure out stuff he knows nothing about. It’s a gift, really.
I’ve Noticed That This Journey Called “Life” Requires Lots of Walking
Maybe 37 is on to something here with his suggestion that I need to re-learn how to walk. Maybe its a metaphor for my personal journey in life. Perhaps I need to throw everything away that I’ve learned up till now and see the world with new, fresh eyes — starting from the very beginning by re-learning how to walk.
So the next time you’re out and about and you happen to see a 59-year-old woman with a wobbly back toddling down the street two-year-old style? . . . give me a rooty toot toot on the ol’ honky horn and let me know you’ve got my back.
Until next time . . . I love you