In Which I Am A Little, And Then A Lot, Bothered By Your Posture

This bothers me, a little:

But I get it. I took this picture at an area coffee shop that I frequent during my lunch break from classes - and I do mean frequent, because they now know me by name. That's a little scary.

My point is, the 'stand on one leg and stick out the other one with both legs turned out' look that's so popular for line-waiting, as demonstrated so beautifully for us by these three anonymous models (although the dude in the middle I know as 'the other guy they know by name in this area coffee shop') is not an isolated incident. Next time you're standing in line at the store, or your own area coffee shop, after you finish reading about this year's sexiest person, check out the way you're standing. Odds are it will look something like the above.

We've become somehow allergic to a) standing on both legs evenly and b) pointing said legs straight forward. We think we look like robots when we do that. No really, we do. People tell me that when I make them do it. But I do it myself, on purpose, all the time, because it helps with my scoliosis/crazy hip, and it's cleared a lot of one sided lower back pain. You know what I hear, constantly? (I'll give you a clue - it's not "Are you a robot?")

I hear: "Your posture is amazing!" "Are you a dancer?" "I've been admiring the way you walk for the past hour!" (That last one was a little creepy, but still a compliment). I can talk about it until I'm blue in the face (and if you've ever taken class with me, odds are I've mentioned it at least once that you can remember) but until you start doing it, you won't believe me that it can make such a big difference in your mood, your 'tude, and your dude (I needed a third thing. If you are a dude or know a dude, either way it will make a difference).

This bothers me, a lot:

This is from the latest Urban Outfitters catalog. I'm not sure how well you can see what is going on for this poor deformed lady, but she's basically making a huge kyphotic (backwards) C curve with her spine, while throwing her shoulders anteriorly (forward), jamming her pelvis anteriorly (forward), and borderline overextending her neck (backward). Apparently, if you close your eyes and do that, the bubbles come.

Monkey see, monkey do - I'm no longer in the demographic that UO is aiming for (and yet they haven't dumped me from their mailing list, which I sort of appreciate in a "what are those crazy kids up to these days?" way), but it makes me so very, very annoyed to see this, because back in MY day, when I WAS being aggressively marketed to, at least the women got to stand like this:

I mean, bananas outfit notwithstanding, and setting aside whatever you may know or think about this particular person, this is the stance of a strong woman inhabiting her body. [Side note: she also gets to have muscles.]

This is not supposed to be a post about the vagaries of modeling, although I could so very easily go there - but that's another story.

This is me, pleading with you to stand up straight, and point both feet forward, and stand on both of them. That's it. It's really, really simple, and I would bet you money that it will make your lower back happier. Plus, you'll get compliments. Oh, one last thing: you have to do it for the rest of your life. But honestly, it's not as hard as having to go to rehab for your screwed up L4/L5 or knee issues. I promise.

The Proof Is In The Reading

The biggest difference, work-wise, between the arty classes I used to take in college and the all-science, all-the-time roller coaster I ride lately is the method of testing. Back then, I would sit in lectures and take long, rambling notes, debate topics in long, rambling arguments, write papers in long, rambling run-on sentences, without ever having to answer a single yes-or-no question.

Not so for science classes. I have at least one, if not more, quiz or test or exam every other week. It's kind of like having someone's thumb permanently pressed into the side of my head, reminding me not to relax too much because I need to memorize some terms, or answer sample questions, or write out balanced equations.

I've discovered, however, that proofreading is not only a useful tool for writing, but invaluable for these kinds of tests. My science class test-taking method is to answer all the questions with at least something first, and then to pause, breathe, and read through all of them again. Every single time, I find I've marked 'A' when I meant to mark 'D,' or left out an important detail in a description that would have cost me a few points or more.

Your body does the same thing. Did you know that? During DNA replication, the enzymes doing the replicating make an error roughly one in every ten thousand nucleotides (like DNA building blocks). So your body has repair enzymes that pause, breathe, and read through all of the replicated nucleotides again, catching and fixing so many mistakes that the error rate drops to one in a billion. Not bad.

There are always students that jump up 20 minutes after the test has started, hand in their paper, and walk out. I wonder if they are so brilliant they've made no errors, or if they're not following the example set by their DNA. I feel urged on by their departure to also make a quick exit (jeez, I really can't quit this need to come in top of EVERYTHING, even leaving the room) but I force myself to stay longer and make corrections.

It's not as dramatic. Proofreading isn't sexy. No-one makes a dramatic statement and then pauses to proofread it before storming out and slamming the door.

But if it's good enough for my DNA, it's good enough for me.

Week 8

aka, The Halfway Point of the semester.

Marked by a noticeable increase in general Honey Badger-ness towards being in school. I started out the semester giving my all, studying for hours and hours, overloading and overwhelming myself. Although I try to let go of needing to not only get an A, but a 100% A, the perfectionism is near-primal in me, and as such, hard to shake. In addition, I've been putting more pressure on myself as these grades will play a part in getting accepted to the grad school I want.

However, something happened Monday morning, aka First Day Of Week 8. I slid into my usual Chemistry class seat behind Girl Who Talks Too Loudly And Doesn't Know The Answer, next to Quieter Girl Who Is Really Funny But Hardly Ever Shows It, and I could feel something in the air. The class has thinned to what is, I assume, its fighting weight: after our first test, a small exodus has us down to about 45 students. We have the air of survivors, and while we spent the first half of the semester putting up with our Chem teacher's preference for replacing actual teaching with dated sexist jokes, now we're done tiptoeing around him.

(sample conversation - Me: "I'm sorry I'm a bit late on Wednesdays, I get here as fast as I can from work." Him: "Oh, I thought you were sipping cappuccinos with your sweetie and lost track of time." Me: "No. I'm a grown up with a job.")

I'm realizing that while I am halfway through this semester, I'm only 1/8th through all my post bac requirements, so the only way to survive this is to chill, a little. I had a Biology test and scored a 100 out of 104. My Bio teacher - who I adore - gently chastised me for missing 4 points (he knows my story, and has high expectations of me, which I appreciate). I, in return, laughed. Honey Badger don't care.

Front Bit

I ran into a fellow yoga teacher last Sunday at the store. We don't know each other particularly well, although I've always had a sense that I would like her a whole lot if we did, but our circles overlap enough that we're aware of what each other is up to, generally. One of the first things she said to me was "man, I'm so impressed with what you're doing."

I don't know if it was because I was feeling particularly worn out at that moment, or if I decided that the people closest to me are tired of hearing me complain so I haven't wanted to burden them with this, or if energetically she just seemed to understand, but I replied the truth in my soul to her, which is: every day I think about quitting. Every day.

It's not the school part. I like class, and as we've established, I'm a dork and I enjoy studying. It's not teaching my group classes, or teaching privately, or teaching anatomy weekends, or writing. I enjoy all of those things, individually; but at the moment, theyareallmashedupagainsteachothersoclosethatthereisbarelyamomenttobreathe.

Case in point: I forgot the word for foot yesterday. Really. I followed up by calling my client's core "your front bit."

The wave of momentum behind all this activity both holds me upright when I feel most likely to collapse, and pushes me forward to the next class, test, client, workshop, deadline. It seems out of my hands, like something happening to me, not because of me, and the vague outline of a goal I held a few months ago feels unrelated to this onslaught.

My free time has diminished to the point that people I used to see on a regular basis have become once-a-month catch-up friends. I miss them. I decided that the lion's share of my attention has to go to my growing nephews, and their even-more-worn-out parents, which means I see them once a week for a few hours. Several times a day, my dog gazes at me balefully, toy in mouth, a slow wag in her tail, hoping I might be convinced to come out from behind the computer, but more often than not she ends up discontentedly lying back down with a heavy sigh.

Am I complaining? I did this to myself, voluntarily, and I can undo it with the click of a mouse. (Quite literally - you can withdraw from classes online now. Ah, technology.) There are moments each day when I wonder what the hell I used to do with my time - if you can cram this much thisness into a day, was I just sitting around eating bon bons and watching reality tv dance competitions? But in the moments when I accept that this is just how things are for now, and that like everything else, this too shall pass, I lift my chin and pick up the next task.

The Brain Behind The Curtain

When I went to college the first time around, I was a bona fide arts student. I took Art History classes (my major) and English and Photography and Theater and Film, and spent hours sitting around tables discussing Kurosawa and the Italian Renaissance. I had a science requirement that I fulfilled by taking those arts major standbys, Rocks For Jocks and Shake and Bake. I didn't do particularly well in either of them, either.

Flash forward to now, and not only am I taking much more challenging science classes, I'm doing pretty well. I'm not talking about grades - it's too early to call, and I still have a non-scientific fear-of-jinx reflex - but I actually understand what's going on when my Bio teacher is discussing the parts of a cell and their functions. I totally get how to figure out formulas for double replacement reactions in Chem lab. Not only that, but in my 'spare' time now, I'm writing articles about anatomy or reading books with titles like "Fascia: Clinical Applications for Health and Human Performance" (thank you Jill Miller - it's a cracking good read).

It feels like there was some part of my brain lying dormant for all these years, and suddenly a curtain has been drawn back to reveal a laboratory with bleeping blooping lights and whizzing dials and reams of paper coming out of machines (the lab is from the seventies) and a white-coated person with a clipboard who looks up at me and says, "Ah yes. Here you are. We've been waiting for you. Right this way, please."

How did this happen? Is it because I'm older, and I'm less distracted than my youthful peers? Or because this isn't my first time at the rodeo, and I have a handle on how to take good notes and what to learn for the quiz? I don't know - it feels like I've got some new person's brain. Hey - did I have a brain transplant and I can't remember because it was a brain transplant? Someone help me out here.

Uncle

Ok... so, in true overachiever form, I overreached. Stress-induced malady in the form of a hacking cough and snotty cold, coupled with a sudden complete inability to sleep past 6am as I *boing* awake with crazy brain has convinced me that perhaps I don't need to be taking so many classes at once while also teaching a full schedule, leading weekend long anatomy modules, guest writing articles, writing this blog, etc.

As a reformed overachiever however, I don't feel badly about dropping a class. Old me would have seen this as a failure, especially since the teacher of said class threw down a pretty serious gauntlet about who would pass and who would drop out, and I find that kind of challenge nigh irresistible (and I've never dropped out of anything in my life - are we sensing a pattern here?). New me sees it as a chance to still have a life while I'm going back to school, rather than a) feel guilty if I'm getting a pedicure or hanging out with my amazing twin nephews instead of studying in every possible free moment or b) actually be studying in every possible free moment, have no life whatsoever, and be miserable.

So yay! Let's count this as a win. A win for my toenails, if nothing else.

We Interrupt This Broadcast

To bring some slightly unrelated (school-wise), yet on a macro level, somewhat related (anatomy-wise) news. Please know that this topic has been duly covered from every single possible angle that you could ever single want to read about (and many you don't) over here, and this will not be another blog about my hip.

However. There has been a lot of pain in my hip recently, and more worryingly, now in my knee as well (sharp shooting pain out of apparently nowhere). I made an appointment to see Dr. Snibbe in Beverly Hills (only the best for Hip) as recommended by PT extraordinaire Sean Hampton, and as it turns out Dr. Snibbe knows surgeon extraordinaire Dr. Robert Buly at HSS in NYC who did my surgery. (And yes, that entire paragraph was about linking to the people I know and love who have performed miracles on Hip, in case you ever need them.)

As you can probably imagine, a waiting room in Beverly Hills is a pretty funny and entitled place, and yes, there was a celebrity there discussing crudites and lunch meat on the phone (I'm not making this up) but my favorite moment occurred as I was walking in to the back area to get X rays, when a woman with a walker yelled "DOOR!" at the closing door behind the nurse and me. These are always the moments when I wish I had the ability to raise one eyebrow at a time. In fairness, she had a walker and was going to have a hard time getting the door open, and she also retracted slightly and mumbled "I mean could you open the door for me please," and while we're at it let's be generous and assume she would have done that anyway, regardless of my unsuccessful eyebrow raise and meaningful stare.

Back on topic!

Ugly gym shorts, freezing exam room, same old same old. And then I got to see my hip in X ray for the first time in four years. Let's just say, time has not been kind.

Anatomy lesson (to keep this on topic)

A happy, healthy hip joint (femur bone and acetabulum) is two smooth, sliding surfaces with no jagged edges or rough points. The head of the femur, in particular, should look like this:

And yes, by 'this' I mean 'John Travolta.'

My femur looks like this:

Which is pretty in the night sky, but not ideal for pain-free movement, as the lumps and bumps grate over the acetabulum, and also get 'caught' on the side, also known as impingement.

The bottom line is that hip replacement surgery is basically guaranteed in my distant-ish future, and in the meantime, an MRI will show if Synvisc injections would be a good idea. Hey, science dorks: Synvisc is a synthetic synovial fluid made from rooster combs. Crazy.

Also: I will be a fascinating cadaver for dissection. They'll be able to trace the spinal scoliosis right down to the hip wear and tear! It's just like CSI!

Everyone is so kind to me about this, and says such nice things, and I truly, madly, deeply appreciate it. The real point of this is to tell you that Dr. Snibbe specifically attributed my relative lack of pain (relative) and real solid range of motion to yoga. I attribute it more specifically to Yoga Tune Up®, which is also what I used to rehab a client back from his hip replacement surgery. Come take class with me.

Enough detour: I have to go study for Psych 103, which as it turns out IS going to be a really hard class, because quizzes are only 5 questions, so if you miss one you're already down to a B. Jeez. Was it this hard the first time around?