When I was growing up (and by growing up, I mean playing sports), no one really talked about tearing your ACL. One girl on my basketball team tore hers in high school. But it was like oh, bummer, you tore your ACL, I broke my foot, let's all get better and wear super long shorts and high socks. Done.
There were not 9 ACL injuries amongst my classmates per year (or more). No one empathized. That would mean people really understood what it was like to tear it. I sure didn't. I had more important things to understand like how I could flirt without ever having to date as an over-compensating, smart-mouthed teenager.
There were not 9 ACL injuries amongst my classmates per year (or more). No one empathized. That would mean people really understood what it was like to tear it. I sure didn't. I had more important things to understand like how I could flirt without ever having to date as an over-compensating, smart-mouthed teenager.
Doctors, PhD students, and money mongrels around the world are still trying to find an answer to the million dollar question: why the F@*% are there so many ACL injuries?! It could be the cleats. The grass. The Q angle. What you ate. Didn't eat. You're on your period. Or. It could just be that life was too easy for too many people, and the universe chose a very specific litter to challenge. In the words of my good friend (in my dreams) Barney Stinson, challenge accepted.
I keep throwing in jokes laced with my dying insecurity of gaining weight during my post-op this round. I honestly am only slightly nervous. I'm pretty sure my determination is like...18x stronger than it was last time (we shall see if that's enough), so I'm feeling confident in my cooking skills (shout out to my mom - heyo!) and workout skills (shout out to my trainer/workout class!) Extra parentheses (my shout outs are the equivalent to me mouthing the words as I type them right now. There isn't actually anyone on the receiving end. All good.)
Aside from weight gain, some other...let's call them...mentalemotionalspiritual stipulations often come along with going through a long recovery process without the outlet that is intense exercise. I don't drink or do drugs, so don't try and peer pressure me through your blog reading to outlet my energy that way either. Been there done that. I enjoy adulthood, thankyouverymuch.
So. I won't be burpee-ing my way through the frustrating periods. I won't be drowning my sorrows in booze. And as much as I love this, I only have so much to say everyday on this awesome new blog. What do I have? Well, my literate, work-avoiding friends, I have some pretty awesome counterparts. Let me tell you about one of them.
You know when you're like 8 years old and you get in a fight with your best friend? And you maybe throw the pen that she "made" you for your birthday at her and tell her she has an ugly backpack? (Oh, that didn't happen for you?) But then the next day you get a new best friend and then you ditch THAT one in 3rd grade when you sit next to someone new in class? Ya. That should STOP happening after high school. I found my best friend in my early 20s, and she is the SHIT. Sorrry, Mom, I'm trying not to use bad words, but any other word wouldn't do this girl justice.
She is like the coolest, easiest going, and most supportive friend ever. Anytime I feel REALLY good about myself, she feels good about me too! That's right ladies, you should NOT have best friends that pick you apart - she is NICE! And FUNNY! Helllll yes we gossip. And talk behind people's backs (mostly celebrities). She cooks me epic meals and never feels like I owe her. She has her own life, but I couldn't live without her. And yes, she is beautiful!
Tonight (Friday night), I'm turning the tables and cooking HER dinner. And I'm totally going to vent about dragging my leg around, swimming with a booey, and missing out on our early morning workouts. But mostly because I know she won't feel sorry for me and will give it to me straight. And then tell me it's ok to eat ice cream. Only if I want it. Because I deserve it. And then we will talk about her dog and my god-dog (his name is Larry and this is one of about 9 million that I have of him because let's be honest, that's the cutest face ANY of us have ever seen).
All of that to say...My ACL tear doesn't suck because I have the coolest best friend in the world. And she can totally call me names and make fun of me to make me feel better and help pick out the healthiest option for dinner all in one sitting. Wanna know more about how she keeps me sane through this whole thing? And more about the other amazing people in my life? Want to meet Larry? And my blood-tied dog, Ginger? Stay tuned to this thrilling and ever-developing blog, you eager beavers. I know you're on the edge of your seats. More to come.
I keep throwing in jokes laced with my dying insecurity of gaining weight during my post-op this round. I honestly am only slightly nervous. I'm pretty sure my determination is like...18x stronger than it was last time (we shall see if that's enough), so I'm feeling confident in my cooking skills (shout out to my mom - heyo!) and workout skills (shout out to my trainer/workout class!) Extra parentheses (my shout outs are the equivalent to me mouthing the words as I type them right now. There isn't actually anyone on the receiving end. All good.)
Aside from weight gain, some other...let's call them...mentalemotionalspiritual stipulations often come along with going through a long recovery process without the outlet that is intense exercise. I don't drink or do drugs, so don't try and peer pressure me through your blog reading to outlet my energy that way either. Been there done that. I enjoy adulthood, thankyouverymuch.
So. I won't be burpee-ing my way through the frustrating periods. I won't be drowning my sorrows in booze. And as much as I love this, I only have so much to say everyday on this awesome new blog. What do I have? Well, my literate, work-avoiding friends, I have some pretty awesome counterparts. Let me tell you about one of them.
You know when you're like 8 years old and you get in a fight with your best friend? And you maybe throw the pen that she "made" you for your birthday at her and tell her she has an ugly backpack? (Oh, that didn't happen for you?) But then the next day you get a new best friend and then you ditch THAT one in 3rd grade when you sit next to someone new in class? Ya. That should STOP happening after high school. I found my best friend in my early 20s, and she is the SHIT. Sorrry, Mom, I'm trying not to use bad words, but any other word wouldn't do this girl justice.
She is like the coolest, easiest going, and most supportive friend ever. Anytime I feel REALLY good about myself, she feels good about me too! That's right ladies, you should NOT have best friends that pick you apart - she is NICE! And FUNNY! Helllll yes we gossip. And talk behind people's backs (mostly celebrities). She cooks me epic meals and never feels like I owe her. She has her own life, but I couldn't live without her. And yes, she is beautiful!
Tonight (Friday night), I'm turning the tables and cooking HER dinner. And I'm totally going to vent about dragging my leg around, swimming with a booey, and missing out on our early morning workouts. But mostly because I know she won't feel sorry for me and will give it to me straight. And then tell me it's ok to eat ice cream. Only if I want it. Because I deserve it. And then we will talk about her dog and my god-dog (his name is Larry and this is one of about 9 million that I have of him because let's be honest, that's the cutest face ANY of us have ever seen).
All of that to say...My ACL tear doesn't suck because I have the coolest best friend in the world. And she can totally call me names and make fun of me to make me feel better and help pick out the healthiest option for dinner all in one sitting. Wanna know more about how she keeps me sane through this whole thing? And more about the other amazing people in my life? Want to meet Larry? And my blood-tied dog, Ginger? Stay tuned to this thrilling and ever-developing blog, you eager beavers. I know you're on the edge of your seats. More to come.