Always

September 19, 2017

“Don’t forget about your abs,” Chad said as he prowled through his stretch class today. “Just because we’re rolling out the IT band doesn’t mean you can forget the core.” He paced between us, assessing and correcting. “That core is always on.” He touched Nadine’s shoulder, Mardy’s hip, approved and murmured before continuing.

“Always on. That core is always on.”

“Unless you’re not watching,” I said through gritted teeth. My IT band is very argumentative a few inches above the knee.

From beside me, my friend Steve was silent, and then muttered, “He’s ALWAYS watching.”

This, of course, made me snort with laughter… but he was right.

All these Body Dynamics people are always watching.

It used to be just my mother on a mental loop. (I hear her whether she’s there or not. She speaks up when I cross the street in traffic, questioning whether my underwear is too tatty to be seen by an ambulance crew when I’m hit by a car [which always confused me; is that what I’d be worrying about? Really?]. She warns me about raw chicken on the kitchen counters. She natters endlessly about thank you notes.)

Once I heard my father, clear as if he was sitting beside me, telling me to steer into a skid, which proved to be a very useful commentary at the time.

But now I also hear Chad saying “shoulders down” when I’m driving.

I hear Barbara question the location of my headlights; oddly enough, NOT when I’m driving and actually HAVE headlights to be questioned.

I hear Gwynn and Grace and Devin and Mario, and LORD KNOWS I hear Chip every time I walk into a grocery store or pick up a menu.

These people have gotten into my head; they are always watching.

And somehow that makes me feel safer!

If they start up commentary about the tattiness of my underwear, I’m going to draw the line. Bad enough when Mom does it.