Tag Archives: Pain Don’t Hurt

02

May. ’13

Day Three in Heels

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If these had a Meowth and came in red, I would wear them every day of my life.

I went to high school in the late 90’s, when it was required by law that all girls shoes have at least a four-inch heel, because the Spice Girls were popular and nothing shows “Girl Power” as much as limping late into math class on a twisted ankle in sweet black stretch knee-high dragon patterned boots from Hot Topic.

But in high school, walking to math class was about as far as I ever had to go, so it was easy to strut around in ridiculous heels.  Once I got to college, I switched to sturdy, mid-calf Doc Martens, dependable punk boots I would stand at one of my several low-wage jobs in all day and dance in all night.

But now that I have a job that requires me to sit at my desk all day, I’m really enjoying wearing heels.  The furthest I have to walk is from the bus to my office, and yesterday, when I was wearing my Betsey Johnson booties and skinny black slacks, I just about caused a traffic accident from all the drivers turning to stare.  Yeah, I felt awesome.

What DIDN’T feel awesome was when I strut my stuff down to the post office, which gave me a blister and reminded me why I stopped wearing heels.  But damn, I looked good, and a little ego can balm any wound.

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24

Mar. ’13

The windmill worked wonders for my waist, but that’s about all I can say.  Maybe if I kept doing them longer, I might see some more serious results, but seeing as how I pulled my back and tortured my neck doing them, the first time,. I think I’ll try something else.

To be honest, I’m really not a fan of workouts.  I had one I followed for a little while, but when we moved, I fell out of practice.  Ian goes to the gym, but I’m just waiting out spring so that I can get back on my bike.    I like my exercise to have a purpose, like going to the store to buy chips.  I like to get somewhere.  I like to see scenery and I like to go at my own pace. And when I’m on my bike, I can daydream, I can sort through the day’s worries, plot new story ideas or just breathe deep and not think at all.  When I do a workout routine, I’m just watching TV, which is something I do too much of anyway.

So maybe biking isn’t not ladylike, but it sure as hell beats laying on the floor writhing around like I’m possessed by Satan.

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11

Jan. ’13

Ice Station Bathtub

“Most women complain they cannot take cold baths.  Not because of ill health, but because the shock of the cold water is too much for them.  I have a way of getting into my cold bath that overcomes the shock . . .I grasp the sides of the tub and lower my body into the water so that the base of my spine touches the water first.  Then I lower the upper parts of my body until the water touches the base of my brain, at the same time splashing my chest and throat.  Then I let my feet down and am wet all over”  Edna Hopper Wallace, “My Secret of Youth and Beauty” (1925)

I’ve been dreading this one all week.  My apartment doesn’t have a bathtub, so I had to wait until I was in a hotel to try this one out.  A hotel, I might add, in Maine.  In January.

When I was a kid, my sister Hilary, our friend Lando and I used to do Polar Bear Jumps at the Hidden Lake girl scout camp in the Adirondacks   We’d get up at 6 a.m, sing a Polar Bear song, then jump into a freezing cold mountain lake and swim until our lips turned blue. Maybe three summers worth of that explains why, as I edge up on 30, I still occasionally get carded for R-rated movies.

Matthew, my assistant/writing partner/BFF, helped fill my bathtub my hotel ice and cold water.  I followed Edna’s instructions carefully, and ten seconds later was screaming “TAKE THE PICTURE TAKE THE PICTURE TAKE THE PICTURE!!!!!”

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The Blogger, Wet, Miserable and Possibly Insane

I have never been so cold in my entire life.  I don’t care what Edna said, easing my body–no matter what part first–into a bathtub filled with ice water cannot be not-shocking.  My core temperature immediately dropped to absolute zero.  I felt like my flesh was being scraped off with a vegetable peeler. I catapulted out of the tub, grabbed a towel and stood shivering in the elevator until I could get to the hot tub, where I shivered for a good two minutes until my body temperature rose back up to just above freezing.

On the plus side, Matthew did say I had a nice glow in my cheeks.  I thanked him through chattering teeth.

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