So, yeah, starting the beginning of August, I’ve been in therapy. This is a first for me, which is a surprise to most everyone I know given my predilection for taking fartknockers, all of the most recent prefaced by the same four words:
“Hey, Mommy! Try this!”
Well of course I meant physical therapy, although there were a number of people who suggested I needed my head examined for attempting what I attempted that resulted in spraining my neck. Worse, one of those people was a mental health professional so therefore may know of what she speaks.
On the surface it does sound sort of dumb, but I wasn’t trying to do a real backflip, just a sort of modified, slightly bouncy backward somersault performed on a trampoline. Unfortunately, there was a tad too much bounce and not enough roll. Crunch!
You know how they say you should write what you know? As it happens the leading lady in my current book suffered a very similar injury. I can now say with complete honesty that I feel her pain. I can also report with some conviction that muscle relaxants are the opposite of happy pills for me. My husband and child wouldn’t hesitate to second and third that opinion.
Given the amount of ribbing I’ve taken over this incident, I feel honor bound to offer up some sort of defense. First, this. Look how easy that is. And does it not look like serious fun?
I also felt it necessary to demonstrate that that stupid little backflip is not completely out of the realm of my athletic abilities. I can do this:
Chalk one up for old ladies. And pass me that ice pack, would you?
Kari Lynn Dell Montana for Real