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As of last Wednesday, I’m on parole from physical therapy. They are allowing me to continue to do stretches at home only, so I’ve graduated on account of my dedication to excellence. This is an older post I started, but since I’m still doing them all, it still applies.


I’ve been going to physical therapy for my back for awhile now. It is superior to what I imagined it would be, because I imagined it would be a lot like working out. For those who don’t know, I hate working out. Whenever I start a regimen, I feel like I’m dying, I usually get sick, and then I give up. I would say that it’s hard, but not impossible. I feel like Christian Bale in The Dark Knight Rises without all the bulging muscles or basically anything that makes him Batman. You know that montage sequence where he’s training? It’s a lot like that, except spliced in with the part from Hot Rod where Rod falls down the hill in the forest. Which means both films have become more believable for me in the long run.

It’s definitely a challenge. I got done with a session three weeks ago, and for some reason that plus the fact that my cd player switched over to an Adele song sent me into tears. Being an adult woman means randomly crying at an Adele song you’ve been laughing at other women for crying over, and then you get all judgy on yourself. Of course, it was also really hot out. I’m not sure if my body goes into hyper stress because of the heat or what. We used to live in the South, and I cried all the time although only part of it can actually be attributed to the weather.

I tried explaining the stretches I am doing to my friends the other day when Parker and I went out to brunch with them, but I had trouble finding a way to explain them. Since that happened, I decided to come up with names for them. The other reason is because when I do a new stretch, sometimes it requires a second pair of eyes at home to make sure I’m setting it up right. As a result, I kept saying, “Parker! I need you to watch me do the leg stretch! No, not that one, the OTHER one. Where’s the picture?” At which point I’d find the fan had bitch slapped the hand outs into a corner and the dog cowering in the opposite corner since flying papers frighten her (don’t ask me why, maybe because she’s small?). I’ll try to find pictures so you know what the hell I’m talking about.

My favorite named one is Prince Charming, probably because it sounds like a kama sutra pose or a piercing you wouldn’t show your family (relative of Prince Albert). I also call it The Proposal, because you crouch down on one knee without a ring. I guess you could have a ring, but you have to hold the stretch. I’d feel awkward with my ring in my hand asking the wall to marry me and then waiting the other 26 seconds while I waited for a response. I also started a fake speech the other day. I’m still waiting on a response from the wall.

The second one I call The Wall or Fake Sit, because it looks like I’m trying to sit in a chair against the wall. Just imagine Jon Snow caught by other members of the Night’s Watch about to sit, but he sees them so he stops midway in this kind of awkward position of “I’m totally standing!”

Parker and I named one of my stretches The Creeper, because I have to prop my leg up against the wall and lean into it, so I usually do it on the corner and lean in while watching tv. You can only see half of my face. I also started doing this stretch the same week we started watching The Fall. 

The hardest one looks a little bit like a Popeye waddle where I put my hands on my knees and walk sideways.

I have more stretches, but those are the best named ones so far. I’m off to do them.