When did my knees go? And where? It seems like all of a sudden these two little bald heads in the middle of my legs decided to check out with no notice. It’s not like I used to jog and torture my knee caps. In fact I always thought of joggers as people from another planet checking out our environment for future habitation.  Even in the animal kingdom, nothing upright on two legs runs very much. Well, unless you’re an ostrich.

I survived the ego crash of being recognized as a senior citizen when I was automatically charged the senior discount price for a cup of coffee, and being called ma’am by 20 somthing girls I think are the same age as me in my head.

I’m over the depression of feeling invisible when I walk down the street and a nice looking man passes by without so much as a nod, that Hollywood will never discover me, and the realization that I will never again be a size 8 unless I’m indefinately hooked up to life support machines.

But when my knees went, well, it was just plain humiliating. There are times I need to get down on the floor – to clean something, retrieve a dog toy from under the couch, or clean out the sliding glass door tracks. If there’s something around me like the side of the bathtub, a chair seat or coffee table I can push myself up with a bit of grace, it’s not so bad.

Tuesday I dropped a drinking glass on our ceramic tile floor in the middle of the living room and had to get down on all fours to look for shards of glass. After crawling around and making a neat little pile of all the glass, I panicked. There wasn’t anything within range to grab to give myself a boost up. I squirmed around on the floor in a couple of awkward positions that could have gotten me an interview with the Cirque Soleil. Finally I did something vaguely resembling the downward facing dog in heat and got myself up.

About a month ago my husband and I went dancing with another couple. I danced to maybe 5 or 6 songs. Within a week my knees hurt so bad I had to get cortisone shots in them. The humiliation was right up there with the Downward Dog.

 2014 Nancy Buffington





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