Let Them Eat Cake

 

Twenty Five Years Ago

My back pain has caused me to try every non-narcotic pain pill there is. None of them have helped much. I've given away an expensive king sized bed and spent a thousand dollars on a new, more firm, queen size bed. That did not help. So I finally went to the doctor, and the doctor sent me to physical therapy. Twenty four years ago I was in the best shape of my life. I went to the gym three times a week and looked great. Then I met Mark, and he cooked the best food I have ever eaten. Slowly I gained weight and got lazy. After a few years I quit going to the gym. I got fat.

Tuesday was my first visit to the physical therapist. She asked a lot of questions and then she gave me five things to do, twice a day. She told me that I needed to strengthen my core. Seeing that my 'core' is made up of ninety percent gelatinous goo, I had to agree. I don't have a fat ass, I don't have a fat face. But oh that core, it is fat. All of the things that the therapist instructed me to do twice a day, were basically stretching moves. Fine, I thought, this is going to be easy, a piece of cake. And then I started craving cake. I didn't give in to my craving and dutifully did my stretches twice a day. Yesterday, Thursday, I returned for another session. This time Mariel the therapist got real. I thought it would just be more stretching, but no. I now have a bunch of physical crap she wants me to do every day. Exercise, I'm supposed to do exercise. Leg lifts, stomach crunch like things. Hurtful things that make my muscles sore. This had better be worth it. I expect to look like I did twenty five years ago when this is all over. Now, where's that cake?