Today I have on florescent pink. Not because I am a girlie-girl, but because I have two large bright pink adhesive pieces of tape, that are keeping my knees from falling off my legs… Okay, so maybe I am exaggerating a little bit, but they really are on there to help my knees. It seems that while I was busy eating those delectable bits of chocolate, and drinking my yummy vodka, the extra poundage on my body, (coupled with my advancing years) has rendered my poor little kneecaps to be wing-caps. Wow, these boney knobs are getting so thin they could pick a lock! Oh, and I have I mentioned that they are starting to point in opposite directions! Good grief, I have become a walking, breathing compass……boobs going north and south, and knees pointing east and west! Enter Stephen, physical-therapist, that is Stephen with a ‘ph’, not in education, but name. Going to see a ‘physical’ therapist is a nice change for me, as I usually have to go and see the ‘brain’ therapist types. Stephen has been alive exactly the same amount of years I have lived in the USA – and although he is not a fetus, he is still very young. But our Stephen knows his stuff! He moved my legs and knees around with the tender hands of a sculptor, and he thanked me in earnest when I admitted that I had shaved my legs in his honour…..he said “boy, I am glad you got the memo” which gave him many points in my book. But then he promptly lost all of them when he told me that I had no arse……. Okay, I have never had the sticky-out kind of bum, the kind that have their own zip-code, you know, like JLo, Goldie Hawn and Kim Kardashian have. And I know that men’s jeans always fit me better than women’s jeans, but I have to admit I was pretty depressed about it. It seems that my gluteus maximus is a bit of a minimus. But all is not lost! Stephen told me that in addition to straightening my hips, which will align many muscles and help pull my knees in, I shall also be doing therapy to enlarge my buttocks. What? My hopes were raised…surely he meant eating therapy, all those delightful calories that would go “straight to my butt” – but nope, of course he didn’t. Stephen has other ideas that involve painful exercises, some that actually involve a stretchy rubber band that has nothing to do with being kinky, or bungee-jumping….. Blimey, just when I think hammer-toes and 38 long boobs are bad enough, I have discovered I have bandy knees and no arse. Great, pretty soon the big fat haunch will appear on the back of my shoulders and I will really look attractive! Seems as though we women always get the worse end of the deal don’t we? While poor men have to worry about hair-loss….HAIRLOSS!!!! Really? That is the only thing that getting older does to them! While gravity starts beating us up at forty, they just take Rogaine and don’t worry about their body parts falling off until they hit about seventy-five. Oh well, I guess being bald and not as intelligent might be a fair trade for having tool-box toes, a chronic bandy limp, but a phenomenal intellect……right??????? Jude the Hunchback
