Not really but when you're reminded of the fact that your meaty little bag of bones is aging you feel awesomely shitty about it. As the saying goes, 'Getting old is a bitch.' When I think about my Mom aging and her ailments it pains me even more. I know, great way to start a post on a blog that is supposed to be funny, right?
But seriously. WTF? I knew hitting 40 was going to be tough... but come on. Cracking and grinding of joints. Dark circles under the eyes even with 8-9 hours of sleep. Twice as much exercise for the same results as 1 year ago. Even if you want to be in the best shape of your life, which I was right before I put on the COVID-19 pounds, you can't because your body will deceive and betray you.
I've spent the last week in and out of the podiatrists office. Why? Because I hurt myself dancing.
DANCING.
Dancing and music are two of my lifelong passions. That and trying to keep up with this blog. That no one reads. When doing the thing that you love starts to impact your life in a negative way, do you stop doing it? Fuck no! You lean into it. Go bigger, don't go home. That's always been my way. Burn the candle of life at both ends. For the last 9 years dancing = sexy rockstar that stayed up until 4am and felt like a million bucks the next morning. This past year dancing = limping for the Advil bottle at 2am praying I don't feel like warmed over death when I wake up dehydrated 5 hours later inexplicably unable to go back to sleep.
Per the podiatrist I injured my left foot some time ago. Being outside for a little socially distanced music event two weekends ago, in sandals and a few cocktails in, only served to be the straw that broke the camels back. My fibula has a stress fracture. I completely tore away 2 of the 3 stabilizing tendons connecting to the fibula. And I have plantar fasciitis due to the tearing of the tendon below my foot from the instability. Good times, right? Just when I wanted to get back into the newly opened gyms and ramp up my workouts, I'm leveled and going in for surgery next week.
After discussing the $2,000+ I'm going to pay out of pocket to do the surgery, my doctor advised that I should "go work out and drink your ass off over the 4th of July holiday." I didn't tell him my fairy godmother gifted money tree dried up years ago. I also didn't tell him that I plan to tear the fucking wheels off this holiday weekend. But I think he already knew that. Though I'm down on myself about my age, my weight, and overall where I'm at in life I certainly plan to stay tits up and rage my fucking face off by doing all the things before our fateful Monday morning surgery together.
Because getting old is awesome.
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