My kid sister showed me something about my own car that I didn’t even know.
My sleek, beautiful little car doesn’t like to have its trunk slammed; it objects. It prefers to have the button pushed and then it will lower itself gracefully into place while I walk to the driver’s door, trying hard to look very cool while this automated wonder happens behind me… but secretly wishing there was someone I could gush to. “Lookit my trunk! Isn’t that awesome??”
But last week, Lexie said “Which button do you want me to push?”
I did a double-take. I’ve had my pretty beast for two years; what do you mean, which button??
She said “This one right here.” Hoot, mon – there was a button RIGHT BESIDE the “automatically close the trunk” button. I swear, it wasn’t there yesterday.
“What the hell does THAT do??” I hollered.
“Closes the trunk AND locks all the doors,” my sister replied.
I was dumfounded. “Gowan!”
I spent most of the rest of the day feeling like a fool, and like I’d been missing something pretty useful for a long damned time…
…and then today I was working out with Chip at Body Dynamics in Falls Church, VA, and the same freaking thing happened.
No, Chip did not point out the second “close the trunk” button on my car, but he might as well have.
“Chip, after I run with Barbara, the next day the hip flexor in my right leg is unbelievably cranky. After I sit for a while, when I get up to walk, I limp for the first five or ten steps. Can you fix this?”
Chip had me stand up in front of him. That’s all I did – I stood there.
“Yes,” he said. “We can fix that.”
“Gowan,” I said. “You can tell that by looking at me standing here?”
“Well, look. Your weight is mostly on your right foot; your left knee is bent.” I looked down in astonishment; he was absolutely right.
“But – this is how I always stand. I’m standing on two feet.”
“Yeah. I know. Look how far out your left foot is turned.”
Again I looked. He was absolutely right. “Gaw,” I said intelligently.
“The little muscles in your hip flexor area are trying to do the work your right glutes are supposed to be doing. We can fix that.”
I don’t actually remember WHAT he said the cause was; I know glutes were involved, and something about inner thighs. I don’t need to know; CHIP knows. And so Barbara will know, and Gwynn the therapeutic masseuse will know. And they will fix me.
But, seriously, now. I’ve been in that car for two years and never noticed the button. I’ve been in the body for 59 years and didn’t know what Chip saw in mere seconds.
Sometimes it pays to have someone else close the trunk of your car.
Chip didn’t want me to take a photo of him doing something balletic. “Like what?” he said suspiciously. “Like the arabesque you just did.” He scoffed. “I certainly did NOT do an arabesque!” Former ballet dancers have a whole different level of standards. Instead he gave me a goofy pose, which I am delighted to share. (Barbara, working with my fellow Balance Class attendee Rosemary, was standing in the same room. “No, you may NOT take MY picture!” she forestalled me. I don’t know why; she’s got the prettiest alignment of anyone since Chip.)