Thursday, November 15, 2012

A little physical therapy never hurt anyone


I walk 2-3 miles every day. I run once or twice a week. I take martial arts classes 3-4 times a week. I do the elliptical 2 times a week. I’m not ready to do an Ironman, but I’m no slouch. So going to the doc for some nagging hip pain wasn’t going to be a big deal…
Neither was physical therapy… right?
So I went to the first physical therapist appointment for my hip.  Nothing like a good physical therapist to make you feel completely physically freakish and inadequate.  In the span of 2 minutes, she told me my shoulders were uneven, my back was crooked, my hips were uneven (right is higher than left) and my left hip muscles are atrophied.  (Yes, she used the word “atrophy”.) Nothing like someone telling you you’re atrophied to make you feel good about yourself!
Then she made me do some tiny little exercises (put your leg here, straighten your knee, and lift up 2 inches and back down again while i push on your leg) which nearly killed me. I apparently have “a good deal of weakness in that area.”
It’s going to be a long 3 weeks…

Friday, March 2, 2012

Feeling persecuted...


or... we could keep an open mind to other peoples' feelings?  just a thought...

Wednesday, February 29, 2012

Bridal Gown Shopping - Combat Style

I had an appointment today to try on bridal gowns at Lord & Taylor in NYC.  And right there on the website it says, "In our brand new Wedding Shop you'll find everything you need." I needed a dress, so I made an appointment. So I trekked to the third floor, past the rows of hyper-vigilant perfume sprayers, makeup experts, and accessory hawkers, and up the elevators, to a little section in the formal wear department that was all white...

On the wall a sign that said "Wedding Shop" and a little table with a phone and a computer sitting in the midst of about 30 dresses.  Looked good!  The only thing missing - a human being. There seemed to be many salespeople wandering about very busy with...something. But none stopped to ask if I needed anything, very few made eye contact, and those that did quickly glanced away and put their heads down and ran.  One I actually got to speak to me said "Yes, I'll be right back" and fell into a black hole (that's the only explanation I have for her unexplained disappearance.)

After waiting 20 minutes for someone to show up, I finally helped myself to the racks, looking through the small selection of dresses, and lugged three torn, patched, dirty and limp gowns to the dressing room (alone) and tried them on.

One other girl came in at one point to try on bridal gowns, too. She had as much luck finding assistance as I did, and her poor dad ended up combing the racks and lugging the gowns back and forth for her to try them on. He did, however, seem more pleased that he had something to do other than sit in a dingy sofa-chair like the other men in the department store.

There was no success finding The Dress at Lord & Taylor. Not because the dresses weren't pretty, but because I was a little concerned about putting my faith in a store where the Brand New Wedding Shop seemed to be more like a Deserted City After the Zombie Apocalypse. But I'm nothing if not positive, so I came up with this:

Constructive Criticism for Lord & Taylor:
1. Have salespeople available at the  Wedding Shop to actually sell wedding things to people. You'll be surprised how successful that might be in increasing your sales rates.
2. Answer your freakin' phone.

Anyhoo, after that bit of fun, I decided to head over to the famous RK Bridal and try some gowns on there. It's a no-appointment place but I figured a Friday wouldn't be too bad, right? (Wrong. But we'll get there later.)

I entered the door... and was greeted by racks, and racks, and racks of gowns. Acres of wedding gowns, prom dresses, bridesmaids gowns... you name it, it was on a rack, smooshed together in such density as was almost unimaginable.  The front-door greeter-woman handed me a flyer - it gave instructions for "First Time RK visitors".

The instructions were along these lines: Welcome! Put your name on The List on the clipboard, pick out 5 dresses (maximum) you'd like to try on, and put them on Rack A. Tie a ribbon around them, and then have a seat and wait for your name to be called.  Thanks for your patience.

They're already asking for my patience. On a flyer. Uh oh. I should have used the loo before coming.

It was packed with dresses. It was packed with brides-to-be. And all the women were like carnivorous animals, stalking the dresses like prey...each looking for the choiciest one to snag before the other brides spotted it.

I dutifully forced my way through the crowds of brides and their variously-sized entourages and put my name on The List...about six names were before mine...and went to the racks of gowns. It was overwhelming. The wedding gowns were all wrapped in plastic bags, squashed together so tightly that some were standing on their own, held up by the other gowns squashing it on the rack. You had to force your way through the bulging tulle skirts to get from aisle to aisle. Supposedly they were arranged by designer...but I never found any patterns to the piles.

Sweating, and my arms literally were sore from pushing, pulling, manhandling gowns to see them... I eventually gave up on looking at the actual gown on the rack and just went by the photos on the tag to pull out my first 5 gowns. I put my gowns on Rack A and tied a navy ribbon around them...and waited.

And waited.

And waited and waited and... I definitely should have used the loo before coming.

There were brides of every size, shape, and color. Moms of brides, fawning. Friends of brides sneaking photos (which, according to the much-ignored sign, were not allowed until you're purchasing a gown.) There were even a few unfortunate men there, with eyes as big as saucers, no doubt wondering why they'd been dragged into this hellhole nightmare. There were literal fights over dresses, whispered commentary about how good / bad / fat / skinny / ridiculous that one looked on that girl, or that one looked on that girl. Crying moms, nervous girls, impatient salespeople, bridezillas, mom-zillas, friend-zillas... I tried to make myself comfy resting against a swath of tulle-puffed towns and watched the circus... and tried, in vain, to be patient.

I wasn't that successful at the patient part. After an hour, my bladder was maxed, and so was my cranky level... but my name was finally called.  I met with my consultant, Mariah, and headed back into her room with my navy-ribboned gown collection, which was suspiciously reduced to four. Apparently another bride spotted one of my finds and snagged it for her own try-on session first. (Did I mention the bridezillas?) Mariah told me not to worry...she'd find it.

I tried on 6 or 7 gowns, and Mariah was fabulous... she tried to find the dresses that I brought photos of, and wrangled gowns from other dressing rooms when necessary (and trust me when I tell you, blood was nearly drawn over a few gowns that several girls were eyeing simultaneously.)  She brought dresses she thought I might like that were a little different than I would otherwise look for, and was totally game when I wanted to try one or two dresses on again, just to take another peek.

About 60 minutes later, my cranky level had gone to nearly zero thanks to Mariah and two gowns that I now need to make a decision between. Overall, a rocky start, but in the end, we had achieved success! And next time, I get to make an appointment...which puts me right up at the top of The List.

Monday, January 9, 2012

Working from home

I have a few eyes watching me when I work from home...

No pressure.