My Groin Is A Nasty Bitch

HURTING MYSELF

But it has nothing on my hamstring!

I discovered something so unique and outright fantastical, this week that I just had to share it with you.

Our body parts can communicate with us! Via spoken words. Yes, I’m not making this up! How did I come to this incredible revelation?

Three nights ago, after a particularly vigorous workout on my rebounder, or, mini trampoline, I woke up in the wee hours to a body on fire, muscles in full spasm mode, and an insistent, angry diatribe from an invisible source. As if a poltergeist was whispering in my ear.

I knew it wasn’t my husband as he was asleep in a recliner in our family room.

As I tried to make out who, or what, was attempting to communicate with me, I became acutely aware that the entire right side of my body was throbbing in a way I can only call “excruciating.” It was so painful, in fact, that I was audibly moaning and groaning. But, even with all my vocalizing, I could still hear this entity who appeared to be getting more pissed off by the minute.

Just a brief segue: I’ve gone overboard on many occasions in the name of “exercise.” Now, you’d think I’d learn that perhaps my body is no longer meant to do the things that I insist it does. No. I have not, willfully. And in return, I hurt myself. Never anything horrific, thank goodness, although I have torn the meniscus in both knees which isn’t pleasant. The first tear occurred when I was getting up off the floor after cleaning a toilet, so working out wasn’t the culprit there.

But this time…this time, folks, I really screwed myself in the proverbial pooch.

The evening of both the unrelenting PAIN and the mysterious VOICE, I realized that sleep would be impossible and gingerly, I got out of bed, the pain intensifying with every move.

I limped into the bathroom for ibuprofen and whatever muscle rubs we had on hand and it was then that I heard the words that were now being hissed at me:

“Sherry, you dumb twat. This is your groin talking! When are you gonna learn, girl? You’re not thirty-five anymore, you’re not even fifty-five! Do I have to remind you how friggin’ old you are? No. I…

Related posts:

It can be hard to go back to work on a Monday, especially for those who have worked in the same office for quite a few years. But on the other hand, we still need to go back whether we feel like it…

I know this publication doesn’t have any value itself toward our society. This collection of journals and photographs exist almost only for my pleasure, and it’s merely child’s play, so to say…

While walking around our garden in a rare moment of warm spring sunshine, I came upon a single yellow bloom. Its brightness and tenacity brought comfort to my heart, standing there in awe. Like this…