Abs of Steel!
So here’s an irony. I got a job. Getting a job was great. I work at the mall (Somerset) so it’s right by my house. Still good. But I work at Janie and Jacks. Which sells baby clothes. And those of you who know me well know how much I HATE small children. But, then again, I am going to college soon. On the 19th in fact.
And that’s really scary. Going away to school just petrifies me. Because I don’t know anybody. It’s not like I can hang out with John and Joel and Jaclyn in my little comfort zone while meeting new people. Nope. Zero bubble of support. I may spend an awful lot of time on the phone being like “Daddy! What should I do?”
Anyway, in other news, I’m in physical therapy for my back, which is very messed up. Turns out that I have a condition called Hypermobility where the muscles in my lower back are way to lose and so they move and slide around in all sorts of ways that they shouldn’t. And that’s very painful. So to deal with this I go three times a week to physical therapy where I pay a twig woman to kill me. On the plus side, I’ve been doing this for three weeks and now have abs of steel. And I’m serious about that. The solution is to this problem is to “build a corset of muscles” as my physical therapist puts it, all around my abdomen to support my messed up back. Which means Abs of steel. So she gives me these exercises that make me wish I were dead and makes me work non stop on them for 45 minutes. And the worst part is, that while I’m in shorts and a t-shirt and I’m sweating and panting and feeling like my abs are going to rip in half, she’s doing the same thing I’m doing next to me, only harder, and she’s in long pants, a sweater, and she’s not even breathing hard. And she looks about as fit as Steven. Gar. But then I get to lie about on heated pads and get massages and ultrasound treatments to try and heal my back.
And that’s really scary. Going away to school just petrifies me. Because I don’t know anybody. It’s not like I can hang out with John and Joel and Jaclyn in my little comfort zone while meeting new people. Nope. Zero bubble of support. I may spend an awful lot of time on the phone being like “Daddy! What should I do?”
Anyway, in other news, I’m in physical therapy for my back, which is very messed up. Turns out that I have a condition called Hypermobility where the muscles in my lower back are way to lose and so they move and slide around in all sorts of ways that they shouldn’t. And that’s very painful. So to deal with this I go three times a week to physical therapy where I pay a twig woman to kill me. On the plus side, I’ve been doing this for three weeks and now have abs of steel. And I’m serious about that. The solution is to this problem is to “build a corset of muscles” as my physical therapist puts it, all around my abdomen to support my messed up back. Which means Abs of steel. So she gives me these exercises that make me wish I were dead and makes me work non stop on them for 45 minutes. And the worst part is, that while I’m in shorts and a t-shirt and I’m sweating and panting and feeling like my abs are going to rip in half, she’s doing the same thing I’m doing next to me, only harder, and she’s in long pants, a sweater, and she’s not even breathing hard. And she looks about as fit as Steven. Gar. But then I get to lie about on heated pads and get massages and ultrasound treatments to try and heal my back.