I’ve Got Your Back

We’ve been a wee bit absent, and we apologize.

Jean’s got serious craziness going on in life between trying to sell her permanent home and buying a new one, and I got sick and my back locked up – like can’t walk locked up. When I can walk, it’s looks like some warped combination of a hobbled over 90-year-old with a walker and a drunk duck. It’s just not a great look for a sexy 40-something. I haven’t decided if getting sick caused my back to lock up, or if my back locking up caused me to get sick. Somehow, they go hand-in-hand, I’m sure. This is when I think I need to drink more.

So I called  my chiropractor – who is wholeheartedly the reason I walk upright – and of course he’s somewhere other than his office this week. This is always the way my friend Murphy likes to screw with my life. After all, the bastard got a law named after him. Why is that? Research to be done at a later moment, I suppose.

Having had similar situations in the past, I have a backup chiropractor. As someone who’s had major back issues since giving birth – my legs are two different lengths on a normal basis, and I twisted my pelvis giving birth to my son – I make sure I have access to this type of doctor wherever I go. Unless I want to crawl, it’s a borderline necessity.

A few backwards bear hugs, a couple of mini ‘detach the muscle from the spinal column051a6c347ee6b57525328b9479602f3cc3f28‘ massages, two ‘pin the thumb on the taught pelvic muscles’ and press with all your might, and several Mongolian Pretzel Twists later, I could breathe again and stand up taller. More importantly, I wasn’t hunched over like the Hunchback of Notre Dame.

What’s a Mongolian Pretzel Twist, you ask? Hugging yourself, lie down on your side, bring your knee to your chest, and have your chiropractor lean all his weight into that bent leg and push hard. I think it was something concocted in a Mongolian prison as a form torture. It could be considered an kinky sex act in another setting, and it doesn’t hurt if  your chiropractor is good looking. It will elicit loud moans on your part, and you will likely want to ask afterwards, “Was it as good for you as it was for me?” It was bloody brilliant for me that day. And the major caveat? It took away 90% of the symptoms of my growing nasty cold.

It got me thinking later that day in a conversation with Jean about having backups in life. If I can have a backup chiropractor, why not a backup career? Or a backup husband? Come on, ladies, don’t even think for one second you haven’t thought of either of these things…

jimmy-choo-heels-womens-shoes-27156004-254-318For me, I’ve decided I should have the backup career of being a shoe designer for Jimmy Choo…Mr. Choo, I’m available for immediate work. Please contact me at your earliest convenience.

And if I were to select a backup husband? Well, my husband is pretty amazing, but there are days I’m sure he thinks about having a backup wife. Hell, we were joking this morning about his 2nd and 3rd wives. I commented about the heavy smell of what I think is his deodorant (I’m simply quite sensitive to smells), and he said, “No, it’s my 2nd wife’s perfume.” I told him she wears shitty perfume and he should splurge on her more. He responded that maybe he should get a wife who doesn’t wear perfume. “You mean you’re third wife?” I said. It elicited a good laugh.

But if I could pick a backup husband? Hellooooo Gerard. In a kilt. Drool…Call me at your earliest convenience, honey.


Tell us what backups in your life you would have!

stick figure thumbnail credit, I love my chiropractor credit, Gerard credit


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