No Show

I stood up Chiro-guy on Friday afternoon. But let me be clear-I adore Chiro-guy. I am convinced that he is helping me to delay another "spell." Trust me: he has his work cut out for him. The fact that he knows that I'm a "donkey on the edge" (think Shrek) makes me a pretty tough case to tackle. Plus-he happens to be a good friend to Mr B (and an all 'round cool dude who I promised I would not blog about....oops! shhh!!!!). But I just wasn't feelin' it on Friday-after the most BRUTAL week of 2010, btw (dodging all that tattle-telling wore me out).

The first few visits to Chiro-guy were interesting and exciting. And the massage table in the darkened room where NO. ONE. SPEAKS. ... Well, I would pay him double just for that part alone. And although the adjustments can be a little creepy (and at close range), I was totally in and down with it. Until Chiro-guy made me attach my head to a pulley-machine-thingy mounted on the wall and do 30 squats. As ya'll already know-I am barely hanging on to my dignity as is. This was seriously putting my remaining few drops in peril. And if that weren't enough, he put a two pound weight on my head, darkened glasses over my eyes, and then made me stand on a vibrating plate and stare at a wall- FOR SEVEN MINUTES. I am totally convinced that there must be a hidden camera in this room. But I can't look-or the two pound weight will clunk to the floor-and he will know: SHE IS NOT DOING THIS RIGHT. My paranoia about the hidden camera is the ONLY reason I did not touch the knob on the timer and shave off 4 minutes of the required seven (I have visions of screaming sirens and men in HAZ-MAT suits tackling me for not following protocol). But at least there is something to read on the wall-if I tilt my head back and squint and ignore my vibrating retinas: it's an article on the effects of positive thinking on one's health. ARE YOU F$#@ING KIDDING ME?!?!?!?!? Who the F-BOMB thinks POSITIVE THOUGHTS WHILE STANDING WITH A WEIGHT ON HER HEAD FOR SEVEN F#@&ING MINUTES??? Whoever she is-doesn't need a chiropractor, that's for sure. Reading that document did at least take my mind off my indignity and gave me a purpose for my next visit. I will be re-typing a new document to surreptitiously put in its place (hence my paranoia about the hidden cameras). One with every vile, pornographic thought known to mankind (Mr B is my go-to guy on this one) with at least 39 F-BOMBS per paragraph. And I don't even need clinical research to know that my document is far more likely to induce positive effects on one's mental/physical health. Who knows: I might stand on that vibrating plate for 20 minutes if the reading literature improves.