My Best Self

2008 is going to be the year I become “My Best Self.” This statement means many things. It means that I am going to work on my eating habits and my exercise habits. It means I am going to start shaving my legs regularly and stop glowering at strangers on the street. It means that I will stop trying to kill the snooze button with overuse and start trying to get some yoga in before work.
It does not mean that I am going to become a morning person or regularly wash my car or begin to enjoy to company of children. I mean there are some elemental facets of my personality. But becoming “My Best Self” (Yes I am aware that every time I type that you all want to sing the “My Buddy/Kid Sister" Song. That is actually ½ the reason I keep writing it.) does mean that I need to go to the chiropractor.
You see, I have a bad back. This was discovered at some pivotal moment in my pre-pubescent years at Jason Lee Middle School. They lined us up in two rows with our backs to one another in the nurses office and we all had to pull our shirts up and bend over. (inset inappropriate joke here) While I was feeling ashamed that all he other girls needed bras and I did not yet (come to think of it I still don’t but I wear one anyway. Go figure) the mentally challenged, lazy eyed nurse was simply noticing that I had scoliosis. Of course she did not tell ME this. She let everyone else go and made me sit with her while she filled out some paperwork and asked me questions. Then she called my mother.
Now, 13 years latter, I have decided to start going to the chiropractor. The guy I went to see on Tuesday is a large, jovial man. He is so cheery in fact that I initially relaxed quite a bit about the whole process. We chatted about my pain. He offered me some coffee. He had me change into a hospital gown. He explained the areas he would target. He positioned me on a massage table. He told me to breathe deep.
Then. He. Body-slammed. Me.
If I had known this would happen, I would have maybe chosen a slimmer chiropractor.