Had my first physical therapy session late Monday afternoon.
My Dominatrix is all of 5’2"…
I’m gonna call her ‘Dinah-mo’
Cause her name is Dinah. Cute, right!?
Her demeanor is sweet and caring.
Don’t you believe it for one second. Dinah-mo turned evil the first time I begged off when something was painful.
She told me right up front, shirkers would not be tolerated.
Why, oh why did I put stair climbing was something I needed to do at my house?
BIG mistake.
The stair climber machine is a torture device straight outta the medieval times.
What next the guillotine? (I have a hang-nail, therefore, my finger must go.)
My soft carpeted stairs at home are easy peasy. I can go at my own pace. No problem.
When I was on the treadmill I notice when I take a step with my left foot my torso bends forward. I’m not sure why this happens but I’ll be danged if I let Dinah-mo see it. No telling what she’d do.
They want me in a rib belt, girdle corset-y looking thing.
That would go good with my thigh high support socks.
Sooooo, sexy.
Ooh la la!
I just don’t think I can tolerate that thing. It looks like it would hurt.
I refused it. Dinah-mo frowned at that.
I woke up this morning sore and stiff.
It got better after I took the dogs out. I didn’t walk far, of course. Little Mother, the lil’wrekker insisted I stay where I could be seen from the house.
If you train hard, you’ll eventually have a real advantage if you get into boxing. Your opponent can hammer you with kidney punches while you stand there laughing!
I suggest adding “Dastardly” to the front of her name: “Dastardly Dinah-mo.”
No, it won’t make the exercises any easier, but it might cause a slight smirk to appear on your face. And things aren’t quite so bad if you can at least smirk!
The rib belt is probably to keep your remaining insides from falling out as you are being put through your paces. I’m sure you still need to do a bit of internal healing at the surgical site, and you need to start the torture, I mean, therapy as soon as possible after the surgery.
Buy some Sharpie markers, and let the Grand Wreks decorate it!
Sorry, Becks. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world. From here on out, I’ll post actuarial tables and stock market reports from 1992. I figure you could use the sleep.
