Sometimes being treated like a girl is a real insult.
I used to lift weights.
I used to lift heavy things.
I used to not be such a wuss.
That was all before I was disabled. I’m eight percent permanently disabled from my degenerative disks in my back. Some days it is literally a pain in the ass. I never imagined in my life that I would be disabled at thirty-one years old. It’s sad to me. It almost feels like life as I once knew it won’t be the same again. At thirty-one. That is no age at all. I shouldn’t complain though, as I know that there are many other people around the world who have it worse than me. In fact, this has just reminded me of my friend’s father who has recently had to look into the average cost of long term disability insurance because he has just been severely injured in a car accident and may be off work for a while. So, looking at it this way, I shouldn’t complain. If there are people going through something like this, surely I can live with the occasional burst of pain?
This week has been rough. I’ve been painting my house and my back has been really sore from contorting my body into pretzel shapes on a step ladder. I hurt my ankle attempting to run a half marathon last week so I had to take a break from running anyways. Might as well paint my whole house! I painted and painted and painted until there was no paint left to be had and my back was screaming in pain.
And then I went to work for eight hours a day, covered in red, white and blue paint (Wasn’t attempting to be paint splattered patriotic, it just happened) and moaned none stop that my back hurt, and gloated none stop that our cabin was finally starting to look the way I envisioned it. My back may be sore, but I am happy.
To be honest working in an office is not ideal with a bad back, especially when you have to sit at a desk all day. That being said, one of my colleagues has recently bought a new ergonomically designed office chair that can be adjusted to make it as comfortable as possible. I might have to ask where she got it from as there are a few office furniture stores in our area and I have been thinking about getting a similar chair to her. What do you think? Do you have any office chair recommendations?
Anyway, I started to feel like I was on the mend until I went to take my trash to the dump, and asked the attendant to lift out the heavy, ugly old vanity mirror from my bathroom I was throwing away, and it was all “Honey” this and “Sweetie” that. I know that old man was just trying to be nice, but I hate feeling like I’m just being treated like a chick. My biceps used to bulge and I was proud of them. Now I just have a pretty painted cabin to be proud of.