Not a Hipster of a Hippy Hippy Shake

You may recall some weeks (months?) ago, I was forced to endure a whole twenty minutes or so of Not Moving.

A situation that filled me with angst in the leadup, and that I quite miraculously survived the Doing Nothing ordeal.

I surprised even myself.

Well, the subsequentness of that little escapade was the requirement that I have some minor surgery on the same joint they MRI’d. Or MRIded or however you spell it.

A couple of teensy inscisions, some shoving of medically type equipment into the area, and a bit of the scraping and the trimming and the vaccuming out of debris.

In this instance, I was heavily sedated. By which I mean they put me under via general anaesthetic. A good thing given how fabulous I am at Being Still.

You may very well be surprised to hear the whole thing was riddled with contradictions. Thankfully no complications.

Unless you count the fact that my many, many years of being active and behaving like a six year old; the years playing basketball (up to Rep level), the 30 hours or so a week I lead aerobics classes, the personal training I did, and the inevitable “If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” attitiude I adopted thanks to my household of boys, well that had the effect of

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