Sometimes, I hate my body. Sometimes, I feel cheated. Sometimes, I think it’s really cruel to give someone SO much passion for life and then give them such a crappy, fragile, easily-breakable, sick body.
I’m thinking about this old joke about Colombia. It goes like this:
God is making the plans for the creation. St Peter is sitting in front of him, notepad and pen in hand, taking notes. God says: OK, Colombia… hmmm, give them two oceans. Give them all climate zones. Give them a great diversity of fauna & flora. Give them a great variety of cattle, grains and anything edible. Give them oodles of gold & emeralds. Give them the best coffee in the world. Give them… At this point, St Peter – a bit concerned, interjects, but Lord, isn’t that too much for one single country?
To which god replies: ah, but wait and see the kind of people I’m gonna send there….
It made me laugh a lot when I first heard it about 20 something years ago. It’s a reference to how Spain sent the finest of the finest (rapists, murderers, traitors and the likes) to colonize the “New World”.
So, I think… When they were putting me together they said: Let’s give her a great passion for sports, let’s give her a great longing for adventures. Let’s give her a greatly competitive drive, let’s give her a great love for the outdoors… you get the drill. Then one of the managers says, but isn’t it too much for just one person, and the boss says, ah, but wait and see what a crappy body I’m going to give her.
I hurt my foot. I don’t know quite know how. Perhaps it was because I danced so much this weekend. I danced on Friday, twice on Saturday and then again on Sunday. Most of the time on grass. Perhaps it was because the ground was uneven. I don’t know. I didn’t fall, I didn’t twist my ankle. I did a little bit of jumping but not really anything crazy (think Jumpin’ Jacks). Then, after one of those little jumps, as I was landing, I felt like someone had stabbed me with a long needle. And now my ankle is swollen and I’m limping. I had to skip team practice today. I’m icing it down and taking NSAIDs so the inflammation is under control. But still. I HAD TO MISS TEAM PRACTICE.
So I’m very grumpy. No, I’m pissed off.
Why is it always such a trade-off?
Sure, dance and be happy for three days but then pay for it by being having to stay in bed with your foot elevated (and miss practice) for a couple of days or a week.
Sometimes I get tired of being always tired. Of being always left behind. Of having to stay home when everybody else is having fun.
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