Strip that down…

I went to the Osteopath today.  No, don’t be silly, you don’t need to send me flowers, I’m alright, I just have a bung knee. I know, I’m a trouper, I’ll battle on through with my injury, carry on soldier, so strong.  *closes eyes, lowers head and nods slowly* It’s just the way I am, I have to keep on going, my people need me.  OK, enough, seriously, I’m fine. As I was sitting in the quiet, peaceful waiting room, I glanced around the room and noticed all the things that I love to see in waiting rooms.  Magazines (all relatively recent and there were some gems in there like “Woman’s Day” and “New Idea”,  score!), tasteful interior design (nothing too over-the-top, just calming colours with simple furniture),  a water jug with cucumber floating in it with some small glasses in case I get thirsty, little extra items for sale (wheat packs, vitamins, muscle rubs, little spiky balls used for muscles – am sure these have a technical name, but I prefer to refer to them as “spiky balls for muscles”)…then I spotted it. Nestled amongst the calming photographs of nature, there was a photograph that I assume was meant to convey an Osteopath treating a patient. My heart began to race, my eyes widened, my palms started to sweat…the legs of the patient were…*gasp*…naked! A la Naturalle, starkers, bare, free from clothing, as mother nature intended.  Now, I am no prude (if I am completely honest I am actually a giant prude but for the sake of this post, we shall continue as though I am not), I have no issue with a health professional requiring clothing to be removed, I just am an awkward naked person.  I’m even awkward when it’s just me and the bathroom mirror.  If I happen to glance at myself in the mirror as I go about my morning routine I apologise to myself for having to deal with allllll of that, like a sincere apology, begging myself for forgiveness and making all sorts of promises about it never happening again.  I’ve never really had the ‘bod’ that screamed “Free me!  Let all see the amazing human body that is hidden under these clothes!” and this is where I think the issue begins.

I am a master at changing my outfit without baring flesh…you should have seen me in my teens, I could change from my school uniform into my PE gear like a ninja.  I can change from swimming togs back into my clothes without showing so much as an elbow. I have mastered this art and have considered putting it on my CV as a skill, however, as I work with children, I do not think that this would be considered a skill that was advantageous to my career.  There are several places where you are required to ‘disrobe” in this life.  You know, when you follow a professional into a room and they smile at you nicely, gesture at a hook/chair/shelf/cupboard and flippantly tell you to get naked before smiling again and closing the door quietly.  I have made my way through life trying as hard as I can to keep my skin covered up so when I hear the words “just strip down and I’ll be back in a moment” I enter a world of panic and fear where I look repeatedly back and forth between the closing door and previously mentioned hook/chair/shelf/cupboard hoping that it isn’t so…

There are two main reasons why this fills me with dread.  1. I’m a bit stupid and I’m also a bit too concerned with looking as stupid as I actually am.  And, 2. I’m embarrassed about being naked.  Let’s start with number 1…

“Just strip down and I’ll be back in a moment”, says the Doctor, Massage Therapist, Osteopath, Chiropractor, Dentist (no, wait, that’s not right!), Nurse, Airport Security Officer – the list goes on… I smile and nod and watch the door close then I panic.  If I’m in for a facial, do I need to strip right down?!  I mean, they are going to be working on my face, right? But I don’t want to seem like a prude or like I am just an annoying customer who doesn’t listen and does whatever she likes….?!? But then, I don’t want to be starkers and then for her (or him, but please God, make it a ‘her’) to be questioning my understanding of a ‘facial’ the whole way through… This is what I mean by being a bit stupid and being overly concerned with looking as stupid as I actually am. I know…stupid, right?

Number 2 is purely a vanity thing. As mentioned in previous posts, I have plenty of junk in my trunk, a ‘cuddly’ figure with ‘strong’ legs, plenty to love (and all the other euphemisms for a chunky lady).  My constant fear is that someone is going to let out a gasp when they see parts of my body.  Not the gasp that says “Wow, you’re fantastic”, but the one that says “Holy hell woman! When did this get so bad?!”  I have talked about this with many friends and they all give me the same kind, sweet, caring lie – “Don’t worry, they’ve seen much worse!” (with an encouraging smile and nod) and they usually follow it up with – “Don’t be so silly, you’re lovely!” – I know I’m lovely, I’ve built my life on being lovely, but I have also built my life on pizza, cheese, chocolate, wine, lollies, pasta, bread, creamy sauces, pies, burgers and fries with aioli and life doesn’t process all that goodness so well!

Just to put your minds at ease…I didn’t need to ‘strip down’ at all.  I was fully clothed throughout the appointment which filled me with sunshine and happiness (that and the fact that my knee felt great) as I danced out of there in a scene that resembled that scene in Titanic when Jack takes Rose down the third class and there is booze and Irish music – ahhhh, 1990’s Leo is my favourite.  There was a brief moment where the Osteopath questioned the stretch of my jeans, but I quickly assured him with a hysterical, nervous laugh that they were ‘super stretchy and there was no need to remove them’.  If he was unsure about this, the wide eyes and forced smile resembling that of Jack Nicholson in Shining ensured that he didn’t press the issue.

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Author: whatshesaid17

I have a lot of stuff going round and round in my head....most of it is normal, some is slightly unhinged and sometimes I like to write it down.

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