Bouncing back...

One of the kids' favorite TV shows is America's Funniest Videos.  It was my favorite when I was growing up as well.  I've noticed that a certain (disturbing) video seems to get a lot of air time, and never grows old.  It's the video of a well-endowed woman trotting on a horse, with her boobs flopping up and down from chin to belly button.  The video clip makes me cringe, every time.  I am embarrassed for her - how awful that a less-than-flattering image of her becomes a regular video clip for all of America to laugh at on a weekly basis.  I hurt physically for her - I've been there, and it is painful.  I am disgusted at who we all are as a people, that we still engage in the monstrous behavior of poking fun at the physical attributes of certain people.

I hate the 'bounce'.  For YEARS I have refused to do stuff that would cause it - running, jumping, dancing...it would just draw sideways glances from some, to outright rude stares from others.  Jumping was the worst.  I loved jump rope games at recess as a kid, but as the years passed and the chance came around again for me to jump - as a teacher on recess duty, I always told the girls 'no' - I'll turn the rope, but no jumping for me.  I eventually gave in and did it once.  My resolve broke down - they were having so much fun and begging me to jump too, so I couldn't resist.  One year after having Rylan, there I was, jumping rope.  One, two....three jumps and my bra strap snapped.  I'm not kidding.  I dashed to the classroom and had five minutes to fashion a fix with duct tape before the whistle sounded.  Fast forward six years to when my daughter just turned seven.  She received a beautiful new jump rope from a friend for her birthday, and really wanted to jump.  So we went to a park one afternoon and Dean and I turned the rope for her.  I jumped a little, just to give her some pointers, and Dean politely said that my shirt was flying up and things were falling out.  So that was the end of that.  In the back of my mind that day, I already had the big upcoming BR surgery to focus on...I knew change was coming, and that in a years' time, I would jump the hell out of that rope and not feel a hint of bounce - and no x-rated peep show to boot.

So three weeks ago, when I found my opportunity to jump, I felt absolutely elated.  I wore my iron-clad sports bra that had proved itself on many a run post BR surgery, and I was ready.  I jumped.  I jumped in front of people.  I don't know how to express just how huge that is for me, but I am trying.  For years I have tried to shield myself from others, but on that day - I was in front of people.  I jumped and I jumped and I jumped.  Inside, my heart was absolutely singing.  I was trampling all sorts of personal demons as I jumped up and down, left and right.

And then I slipped and fell.

I went from the highest high to the lowest low in seconds.  My little shovel can't dig deep enough or fast enough into my personal pit of despair.

How fucking unfair!

HOW FUCKING UNFAIR!

Years and years of pain and physical set-backs that made exercise off-limits.  Three pregnancies, plantar fasciitis, bursitis in my hips, shoulder surgery, breast reduction... lots and lots of chiropractic visits and physical therapy....and now THIS??  NO!  I was poised for the most awesome and active summer ever, and now I have a torn ACL, torn MCL, sprains, bruising and swelling... the laundry list from the MRI is so ridiculous it is laughable.  I have many months ahead of me with my knee in a brace, surgery, therapy...blah fucking blah, blah, blah.  I hate to bitch but it's the Murphy's Law(ness) of it all.  It just plain sucks.

Yeah...I have not been in a good place these past few weeks.  I felt it best to detach myself and let the emotional freight train run its course.  I'm a mess, inside and out.  The only thing to do is get back in the saddle and start over.  Again.

So in trying to find something to smile about in all of this, I thought that my downshift into a snail's pace means that I will have time to smell the roses.  All of them.  Twice over.