Sigh... Soo.. I am nigh on ta sixty years wise - ( said in my best " Granny from the hill country" voice) - and even though I remember a time when I thought someone that old should just be thrilled to be above ground and breathing... now that I'M here - I'll be danged if it doesn't seem WAY too young to hurt in places I have done nothing to. I have officially reached an age where if I sleep wrong it can ruin an entire week. Like all of a sudden turning my head will make me wince. (For serious? FOR SERIOUS) I just wanna call bullshit on that right out of the gate.
I know, I know - you're thinking... Shut up bitch, if that's all you got... you got it GOOD. And while I am the first to admit that is very true... I also am writing my own damned blog ( what a stupid name.. B L O G? What does that even mean?) so I get to say any little petty thing I want. And believe me... there is a ton of it in my little addled brain.
Now... where was I? Oh yeah... I am currently going to PT twice a week for a shoulder injury that I did not injure. Well.. I mean... the MRI says "due to repetitive trauma" but the only repetitive motion that thing has done is raising my arm up and down like a normal fucking person. Does that count ? I see the "repetitive" piece fitting there... but TRAUMA? Ummm.. Nah.
Unless maybe that arm was bullied for years behind my back and I wasnt aware. Maybe the other arm was constantly calling it names like "crinkle cut french fry arm" (due to the crepe paper it is currently made of) - or "Sun Spot Sally" (due to the amount of years it spent trying to roast into a golden goddess only to end up with... NOT that.
Either way.... Ageing is a privilege - of which I am well aware... but for FUCK SAKE.. why it gotta do us this way?