So I got the genius idea sometime yesterday evening that I should do 30 Day Shred every day, because if I take breaks, the agony I feel will only renew itself each time I complete the workout and improve very, very slowly. My thinking was, the pain I am in cannot possibly get worse, so I should remain in this pain until it abates when my muscles grow used to this kind of stress.
I am such a moron.
Not that this is not a good idea, because I really think it is. It just means I have to keep working out, which is akin to submitting to repeated root canals without anesthesia.
But really, I have to say that the pain hasn't gotten WORSE. It has just stayed the same. And I can cope with that. Ish. See, as my friend Bailey will tell you, I have not stopped talking about the 30 Day Shred since beginning 30 Day Shred. And today, on our trip to Indy, the most-repeated phrase was "30 Day Shred." In fact, I said it so much and so often, it quickly melded into a single word, which sounds something like "Thurdedyshred."
Also, Bailey became aware of another development from Thurdedyshred. I cannot use my quadriceps. At all.
This means I cannot sit down in the car. I have to grab the door frame and drop myself onto the seat. I cannot get out of the car without levering myself back out using the steering wheel and armrest. I cannot sit in a booth at a restaurant without collapsing into it haphazardly, nor can I get back up without shoving myself onto my feet using the table to push off.
The reason isn't pain, although believe me, there is PAIN. It is that my quadriceps just give out. One minute they are supporting my weight, the next it is as if there is no muscle group there at all. And I am on the floor.
Let's talk for a moment about getting out of bed in the morning. How does falling onto the ground and using the bed to pick yourself back up again sound? Because that is my life.
And getting on and off the toilet? It is more like dropping from standing to sitting without any control of trajectory, praying that I will land on the seat and not on the floor, and getting back up means that I have to lean on SOMETHING, which means in my house, grabbing the sink and dragging my body to a standing position. And in public restrooms? That is what handicapped stalls are for. Really. I can use those safety bars they put on the walls. They are very helpful.
Did I mention that our toilet seat is kinda broken at home? It is attached on only one side. So that makes things extra interesting when trying not to fall half-nude onto the floor.
I hate my life.
But today, things took a turn for the worse, because I went out. Bailey and I, as I mentioned, went to Indy. And since we are such exciting young folk, once we finished lunch, we found ourselves with no idea what else to do before our drive back home. So we walked around the mall.
This was the mall where the Cheesecake Factory is. It is a fancy mall. It has a Pottery Barn, a Sacs Fifth Avenue, COACH, Tiffany's...and Burberry. We'll come back to Burberry.
This particular mall is also under construction, so that added a bit of confusion to our trek between stores. We explored Anthropologie, which I love but cannot afford, and found there was a sale. I bought adorable sunglasses and a present for Mum's birthday. And then we got lost. And then we found we'd walked in circles (construction). And then we discovered the area we'd thought was construction, and therefore, off limits, was actually a path you could take. So we went down it and discovered stairs.
And I went down one stair. It involved positioning my foot and then trying to control my fall. And there was a whimper/grunt/moan noise involved when the foot landed. And then I was right back up the stair and in line for the elevator, while Bailey (justifiably) died with laughter.
As we walked around the second wing of the mall, one leg just randomly gave out, and I barely caught myself on a bench before I went head over heels into a random Fiat that was on display. Bailey again laughed at me. Again, I deserved it.
Have you ever been to Burberry? It is a fancy store. Their coats are to die for, and they have lovely perfumes. Mum loves Brit, which smells awesome on it's own, but whatever Mum's body chemistry is makes it smell even better, so between us, Dad and I make sure she has a bottle at all times. She deserves something fancy.
Really, the only thing you can afford at Burberry is a bottle of perfume once a year. Because seriously, their coats cost, like $3,000. No joke. And I am not in the 1%, folks. I am in the bottom of the 99%. I cannot buy a $3,000 coat. I couldn't even buy a $3,000 CAR.
Apparently, I also cannot walk.
Bailey wanted to smell the Burberry perfumes, and I wanted to feel the wool of the coats I cannot afford because good wool is like high-grade heroin to me. So we went in. And we walked around, and I didn't even look at price tags, because I know better. And then we were walking out.
There was this mannequin. It always starts with mannequins.
It was dressed in what would probably amount to $10,000 or more in clothing and accessories. And it was centered in front of the registers.
And I walked past the mannequin. I did NOT bump into the mannequin (although I have done that in other stores).
What I also didn't do was look down. So there is the abnormally tall mannequin, and there is Laura, walking. And then suddenly, Laura is flying forward and windmilling her arms like in Thurdedyshred, and then she is out the door as fast as her legs will carry her (not fast), pursued by Bailey, who is laughing so hard, she has lost the ability to breathe.
The mannequin, you see, was on a plastic platform. That would be why it was unnaturally tall. It was raised five inches or so off the ground. One of my feet went on the ground. One of my feet went on the platform. Sadly, this was enough like a stair to cause my quadriceps to fail utterly, launching me into the air. And then, miraculously, I regained my footing. Just in time to flee before being banned from Burberry for life.
It's really too bad I didn't fall down. Imagine the lawsuit!
I would totally have settled, too. They could have given me this coat, and I would have signed all kinds of release forms.
Instead, I went home and did Thurdedyshred again. And I think I pulled my neck. Stupid crunches.