You know how some people are considered to have old souls? Young adults who are mature beyond their years? Well, I am most certainly not one of these individuals. I’ve got this other thing going on.
I have an old body.
If you watch the show “Drop Dead Diva” on the Lifetime Network (don’t knock it till you try it — it’s the type of show you don’t want to admit watching, but it’s just so good), then you know the premise. And if you don’t watch it, well, I’m going to tell you the premise right now.
Skinny model dies, ends up at the pearly gates (which were more like an all-white office with fancy computers that can, oddly enough, return you to Earth.) The catch: you just might not get the body you had before. And so, skinny model becomes svelte plus-size lawyer (who is way prettier anyhow).
There’s a lot of transitioning for the skinny model, obviously, and there’s a part of me that kind of gets that. I think there’s a very real chance that I must have been on Earth at some point with a super awesome, youthful body (which was also about 5’6″ and had this really killer metabolism rate), and then some emergency occurred that resulted in my coming back to Earth in the body of a 75-year-old.
Let’s take a look at the evidence, shall we?
Most notably, there’s the hip situation. I never really went into great detail about that because I spent a large chunk of my previous blog ranting and raving about it, and people who like humor don’t like ranting and raving (or so I’m assuming). So to bring you up to speed, three sentences: I tore the cartilage that lines my hip socket and femur, which hurts basically all of the time. I went to six different doctors, three of whom were orthopaedic surgeons. Two of them said I would need arthroscopic hip surgery OR ELSE I would end up with at least two or three hip replacement surgeries beginning in the next five years.
As it turns out, it’s a darn good thing I didn’t get said surgery because this torn labrum situation isn’t such a big deal, and I’d say I probably have the same likelihood of needing total hip replacement as much as the next guy. Which kind of blows my theory.
But what I’m trying to get at is that, at age 28, total hip replacement was kind of on the table.
Exhibit B: I got diagnosed with shingles this morning. Shingles. As in, the medical condition you’ve been seeing ads for on television with septuagenarians. “But isn’t there a vaccine?” you ask. Well, there sure is. But you can’t get it till you’re 60-years-old.
And the fact that really beefs up my argument is that I first got shingles when I was six-years-old. At the time we didn’t think that was such a big deal, but we’ve since come to realize that I was actually kind of a freak.
It’s cool. Gives me more reason to believe I will become an X-Woman any day now.