Before you know it, you're the crazy cat lady in the scary house

I breathe in, I breathe out, I belly dance

December 31, 2001 ... 11:12 p.m.

I breathe in, I breathe out, I belly dance

I had physical therapy today. Woo. Hoo.

Background: I fell two years ago and and hurt my knee. I mean, really hurt. 3 doctors told me it was nothing. Liars. So a while ago, I went a saw another orthopedist. I had my knee scoped. Long story short--I had a small cartilage tear that healed itself, an inch long tear the Dr. F repaired, a pea-sized bone chip lodged in some cartilage in the joint and no ACL. Yeah. Apparently, when I originally fell, I had torn my ACL and--without medical treatment for two years--had disintegrated.

So, instead of rebuilding my ACL, my doc gave me a brace. A big brace. For me to wear in therapy (I have a different one for day-to-day crapola). You see, after those two years, I wasn't walking properly and must retrain my knee or risk further damage. Or something to that effect. (I'm begnning to wonder if I just have a lazy orthopedist.)

Anyway, I go to phyical therapy. My therapist's name is Skippy, he's 12 and he has braces. And, while I'm working out, Skippy keeps reminding me to breathe. Every 5 seconds. "Are you breathing, Eibisch?" "Don't forget to breathe, Eibisch."

I don't know about you, but I have been breathing--darn near constantly--for over 24 years. It's kinda become habit.

And, yeah, there are times I "forget" to breathe--but, believe you me, they don't involve Skippy!

For Christmas, my godmother bought me a belly dancing for exercise video. She's taking lessons and thinks it's great. She gets on these little kicks and thinks I must become involved in them. She thinks I should be more excited about belly dancing because I will be able to dance like Shakira. I would be more excited--if I LOOKED like Shakira. And, anyway, she's taking belly dancing classes? She's, like, 65! She is almost as old as my grandma.

*shudder*

Happy New Year!

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