Sometimes, the cure is more trouble than the sickness, people.
I mentioned a few days ago that I’ve been having some leg pain, and the trouble turned out to be a minor back ouchie. The doc prescribed pain killers and exercises; that’s not the problem. The exercises seem to help, and the pills — well, the pills are yummy. Ibuprofen always is, of course.
But the problem is this little guide that he gave me, which describe the exercises. It’s also got some tips on other ways to help the back, like the right way to stand, and the correct way to sit, and — here comes the problem, folks — the right way to walk.
Here are the tips it offers:
Now, that’s all well and good. It’s a helluva lot to remember, but nobody ever said a pain-free existence was going to be easy. Just ask the Buddhists.
So, I tried it. And I’ve been walking around, just the way my little pamphlet suggested. Which is when I noticed… if you walk like that — toes forward, back arched, hips down, on your heels — you’re basically driving yourself around by your crotch. And for the most part, I’m finding that people don’t particularly appreciate being greeted by your package before the rest of your body. If you can find an exception, then bully for you — crotch-walk your way right up to that person and give him or her a hearty waggle hello. But you’d better be damned sure they’re into it, or you might have a restraining order on your hands. Or your pants, for that matter.
Meanwhile, I’m making it a point not to actually walk towards anyone. They don’t seem quite so alarmed if I’m weenie-sailing to their left or right; it’s only when the ship is coming right at them that poses a problem. And understandably so — if some schmuck came moseying up to me leading with his… well, with his schmuck, so to speak, then I wouldn’t be too happy to see him, either.
Still, it’s better than not being able to walk at all, so I’m gonna keep doing it. I’ll just have to be careful, now that it’s barbeque season. You can’t walk too close to the grill when you’re navigating penis-first, you know. You could have one roasted weenie too many on your hands. Eep.Permalink | 2 Comments