Thursday, December 08, 2016

Blame your parents

I had my remaining natural hip scanned for degradation. Yes, some of that, but I don't need surgery yet—my comfort will determine when it gets done.

In the meantime he gave me praise for doing the right thing—exercise biking being the best exercise for a failing hip because it tones the muscle that keeps it together.

He had a work experience person in and he explained to her that I had been young for my surgery and that the damage to my left hip was likely caused during gestation; by the position I lay within my mother and the way she lay as well. This damage in addition to that caused by my breech birth.

"Blame your parents," he said. 

I know my body is not my fault—it was made and developed this way. But the shit I copped from those parents for my height, weight and lack of agility made for an unpleasant childhood—and adulthood because they kept that crap up after I left home.

I sat on the bus home flitting between happiness and anger; happiness at once again confirming how fucking awesome I am and anger at the bullshit I endured, and still endure, because of my body—and people's attitudes to it. 

But I'm still here, not in spite of it but because of it; this bullshit makes me strong.


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