BulgingButtons

Not bad for a fat girl


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Feeling My Age – What a Pain in the Back

So there I was, minding my own business, asleep in my bed. The alarm has the audacity to wake me at its usual mocking time of 5:25. I hate you, 5:25. I hate you alarm. I hate early morning in general. It rubs me the wrong way.  Anyway, I get up after just one touch of the snooze button and start my day. Woo hoo. I feel a little stiff, back a little sore. Hmm, maybe I slept funny. No big deal.

I shower, dress, and go about my business. I drive to work, do my teaching thing, and have a generally so-so kind of day. Then it starts. OW. My back starts spasming and siezing. Damn, this hurts! Fortunately I have already released the cherubs to the care of the music and PE teachers, and I have time to writhe in peace. Seriously, this f’ing hurts.

I leave, wince as I buckle my seatbelt, and gather my teen. He is sympathetic. Bless him. Then I head home to start dinner and face the evening. backpainlargeMy sweetheart comes in the door with not only the rest of the dinner fixin’s, but relief for my crazy back. Ben Gay adhesive patches. I’m thrilled to see them. I had been hoping that there might have been a painkiller or two left over from my last surgery, but then I remembered that I was prescribed a very small amount of those… I was rationing them from the start.

We finish dinner and he puts one on me. OH! It feels like ice cold goo is being applied to your back, then it almost instantly turns warm. Not overly warm though. It helps. So does the ibuprophen. I’m a bum all evening, barely moving at all.

I get ready for bed, changing patches (with sweetheart’s help, it’s hard enough to put something on your back, but when it’s painful to twist, well, that’s another problem all together), and hoping that I will sleep. I do.

The alarm rings at 5:25. Dammit. I hate that alarm. But I can move. Yes, it still hurts, but the stabbing sensation is gone. Thank goodness for ibuprophen, a wonderful man, and a gooey feeling bandage. Like my mom says, “getting older sucks.” That may be true much of the time, but it sure beats the alternative.


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Daily Prompt: The Full Moon

Otherwise known as, “Boy, that’s pretty, and by the way, what the hell has happened to me?”

moon3-300x300The moon was high in the sky, lighting up my dinky backyard far better than the lone candle and bedroom windows could have. It was nearing midnight and I was in the yard in a swimsuit, rather than in  bed in  pajamas. What was I thinking? It wasn’t a weekend, and my alarm was set, as it always is during the week, for 5:25 am. Hell hour. I shudder just thinking about it. Every morning it’s the same. I’m sleeping peacefully when all of a sudden this happy little electronic chirping drills its way into my slumbering skull. It  feels like I’ve been asleep for about three minutes when it happens, and I wish it would stop. Oh, how I wish it would stop.

Because of this hellish wake-up time, I am usually  pretty beat by ten or ten thirty at night. Well, the full moon night was slightly different. Sure, I was tired, but I was also restless. I had some energy that needed to be spent, or I would toss and turn all night. I decided to take advantage of the warm evening and hit the pool. I changed, grabbed my towel, and headed out back.

It didn’t occur to me right away, but eventually I noticed that the night was really pretty. The moon’s glow lit the yard in a most flattering light, and I felt energized as I entered the water. It was glorious, not too hot, not too cold. At that moment the moon took over. Instead of my usual thirty minutes of water exercise, I decided to set a distance goal. My moon addled brain decided to do one hundred walking laps of the pool.  Across and back, one. Across and back, two.  I really started to get into a groove. I loved it. I was focused and working and had no trouble tracking my progress. With each footfall I mentally said the lap I was on.  “Eighty-six, eighty-six, eighty-six, eighty-six…” Crazy? Maybe, but it kept me moving.

It took me a long time. Longer than thirty minutes. Funny thing, though, I loved it. Who was this late night full moon exerciser? I don’t know, but I’m hopeful that it won’t take another full moon until I meet her again.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/08/20/daily-prompt-nighttime/