Feedback Friday :: Spine

bulk :: 16st 4
cigarettes smoked :: 0
joints smoked :: 0
units of alcohol imbibed :: 10ish
letters of complaint toiled over :: 1
chiropractic visits :: 2
chiropractic fantasies :: 6

So. Let’s call her Naomi. Naomi is slight of frame and dark of skin, with wonderful posture and lovely strong hands. I felt slightly ashamed to be honest, standing there in front of her with my stoop and my belly and my big baggy undies. At least they were clean though. Ish.

She started by asking me questions about my medical history. She was interested in my mother’s arthritis and wanted to know whether it was rheumatoid arthritis or osteoarthritis. I told her I didn’t know. She said maybe I could find out. I told her my mother was dead and that my father and I are severely estranged. She said, ‘Oh.’ I nodded in agreement. ‘Quite,’ I said. Then there was a pause, in which I think we both felt slightly uncomfortable. ‘Maybe I can find out anyway,’ I said, in an attempt to jolly things up a bit. But actually, maybe I can. I’ve been thinking about my Dad quite a bit recently. I’ve been thinking that I should make an effort to see him, and reconcile with him, before I wake up one morning to a letter telling me that he’s dead. Because then, even though I don’t think I have anything to feel guilty about, I will feel guilty. And that will suck.

After our little chat, Naomi proceeded to poke and prod me with her bright little hands, trying to find out what hurt and what didn’t. Typically, nothing hurt, as my back had decided to start behaving itself just a couple of days before my first session.

The best part of that first session was undoubtedly when Naomi covered her sweet little fingers with some medical massage oil and rubbed it into my big old rubbery stretch-marked back. It was so pleasant that I was afraid I might sustain an erection, and then when I didn’t, for some reason I was actually quite disappointed. Weirdo.

The worst part of the visit was when Naomi had me straddle the table with my arms crossed over my chest, then grabbed my upper body and twisted it sharply. I enjoyed the proximity, don’t get me wrong. I even didn’t mind her slightly rotten breath on my face – it was after all, human breath, and that’s better than no breath at all (it’s also better than cat breath). What upset me though, was that she wasn’t able to make my spine go ‘pop’. That’s what was supposed to happen. But it didn’t. Naomi was also disappointed. I could tell. ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘It should really be easier than that.’ Made me feel like a bit of a failure if I’m honest.

The second session was slightly more interesting as my spine gave way a little and I left with a huge pain in my neck. Overall though, I’m still not sure about this chiro lark. Although it’s undeniably pleasant to have an attractive and attentive young woman laying her hands on my naked flesh, that’s really not enough of an incentive. After all, for the same money, or even less, I could have an attractive and attentive young woman lay much more than mere hands on me. For me to continue with this, there has to be some sort of tangible result. So I’ve decided, I’ll give it five sessions, and if by the end of that time my spine is not popping like a field of corn and I’m not as lithe as a whip, then I think I’ll cut my losses and give pilates a go instead.

(Incidentally, Naomi told me to lay off the exercise until a few sessions in, which is why I haven’t been running. She’s going to give me some stretches to do. Gosh. Stretches. I can barely contain my joy.)

So. What else has this week offered? Well, not much, I have to say. I’ve been working quite hard on something financial and far too tedious to go into. I have a dull pain in my gut which I reckon could be stomach cancer. And I had a Magnum ice cream in a large bowl of cherry yoghurt. This undoubtedly was the highlight of my week.

Cristiano Ronaldo, eat my shorts.

Christ, I’ve got to find a girlfriend. I really have.

So I think it might be time to give the internet another crack of the whip.

Or maybe I should ring a chat line.

No.

The internet.

The internet will save me.

But first I’m going to disinfect my life. I may be some time.

Have a simply gorgeous weekend.

You’re worth it.