So after 8 months of sitting on my ever-widening rear end, I finally had my epidural a couple weeks ago.
I don’t normally consider myself a particularly patient person but I have to admit I’ve been uncharacteristically tolerant these past months, living like someone who abhors being active. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not like my friend Pam, who at 62 (a mere 2 years younger than me), runs 2 half marathons a week in addition to running another hard 9 miles in the hills one day a week. She lifts weights 3 days a week and takes yoga classes as well. Whew!
No, I’m not a masochist like Pam, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m simply someone who enjoys playing tennis, hiking now and then, biking with Pam (oh yeah, she also bikes), working out to yoga and Pilates tapes, taking an occasional jog and even snowboarding once in a while.
Last week I clipped my fingernails almost down to the quick, where barely any of the white parts show. Why, you might be wondering, did I do such a thing? I thought you’d never ask. And I have a very good explanation for that. Pain. It has to do with pain. I’ll explain…
Bye bye nails
As you know, I’m dealing with this damn back of mine to the point I’ve not been able to exercise in over 4 months. Boo-hoo. As a consequence, my body now closely resembles the blubber in the movie, Flubber. Except I’m not green.
And as an added bonus, I’ve gained 5 pounds. Yep, I finally broke down and weighed myself with my super-duper-never-wrong-bathroom scale. I wish I could call it a liar but sadly, it’s honest to a flaw.