The follow-up story to my one-on-one-in-the-gym-hell story is I bought the first self-help book in a very long (maybe should read never) time.
At the trainer’s recommendation, I decided to check out Peter Egoscue’s Pain Free. I mean reading a book that has exercises in it is practically the start of my career as an Olympian (seniors’ division). Hell, I might even try one.
Truth is, I do hurt more than I think I should. Long walks mean pain in my legs while strolling and, when I stop, stiffness in the usually suspected places (and not the good kind, since I don’t have one of those stiffness agents). Personally, I suspect my god-awful stooped posture. And, for my god-awful stooped posture, I blame my tits.
Basically, in a world where it’s 1972, you’re a good foot taller than the tallest little girl in your neighborhood, t-shirts are worn tight and clingy, and you’re growing relatively prodigious melons on your chest, you tend to hunch. I would hunch or stand on one hip to lower myself to less heightened norms. I’d positively bend forward (clutching a book or notebook tightly) to divert my breastages from direct view.
The trainer recommends rolling around on the floor with one of these roller thingies that all the kids are using in the gym these days. 
Apparently, sliding it under my back and shoulders, nipples reaching up to the rafters (or heavenward, if you’ve ever seen my rack), and my as yet unsprouted dowager’s hump will become a statuesque upright. Reading a book and rolling on the floor, it’s a fitness regimen I might actually be capable of mastering. I mean I read like a son of a bitch.
The best part for me of buying the self-help book was walking around with it. M. and I walked into what I consider one of the more amusingly Bay Area cliche of a healing book and gift store.
I entered snarkily mocking the flier out front for the lecture by a chick to help you get in touch with the angels. Better yet, I discovered the prominent display for this little wonder of new age malarkey. Oh yeah, “quantum” mechanics creating fortified healthy water, stirred not shaken. If M.’s aunt hasn’t yet discovered this company, and they have a branch anywhere in Asia, it’s just a matter of time.
So, I walked in offensively judging, as is my wont, but I clutched Pain Free to my bosom. I hope the hippies figured out it was just the hurt crying out.
Technorati Tags: age, Bay_Area, books, California, exercise, gym, sports
lets be honest here
melons
soapy
bits
nirvana
but then again im an old perv
young ladies should be told to be proud if what they are blessed with
and give the guys a slap if they gloat
twice or thrice if nessesary
just to calm em down
edva
Let me know how the book works out. I got a prodigeous dowagers hump rooting deeply as we speak (write)
oh i can write pervy storys for dodgey dowagers
ill tell you what 50 \50 split
i write the pervy stuff u do the punctuation
she looked into his eyes he smiled and bared his teeth like a vampire
she looked up and he slit her bodice with a hidden knife
she gasped at the audacity and fated gleely at the fact he could have opened flesh wounds
yeah yeah i know its crap
thats why i am a n electrician with a tude
whilst Dee is a writer witout one
love n hugs
n comments
vdea
i think it was fainted instead
i realy must get a smaller set of fingers
vdea
Uh, worked for me . . . .I had to change my knickers. . “Fated”, “Fainted” it’s all hot !
I love that while I’m.working you kids are having fun here.
Dvae, Dot means it about the knickers. Big old granny panties.
. .. . with overstressed elastic band at the waist. .. NUMMY!
slit knickers
twas a bodice
but hey ho
ill work on it
so Dot the whole rape fantasy works well for you does it
you know smile nice and get fucked by a big boy
me i like the BDSM thing but between consenting adults where the outcome is known in advance
but i am free should you need me
just for experimentation mind
oh and big knickers are better left in the laundry basket
before hand
dvea