Hips Don't Lie...

About a month ago, I lamented to Kristin that my hips were "killin' me!"  I felt like an old Labrador with a bad case of dysplasia.  Mornings were the worst as I limped down for coffee.  It was very evident that I had totally overdid it in Zumba class while throwing my hips around.  Evidently, channeling my inner Shakira was NOT the best idea.

But...as the month wore on, the pain increased to an all day throb.  An X-ray later, I was diagnosed with (gasp!) arthritis.  Wait.  Isn't that a thing for 'old' people?  Well, okay...Some gray hair and some crow feet action I will own-but arthritis?  Well, hell.  Whaddya do with that?  I have no real family history and Doc says that I have simply worn them out.  Like too many miles on a leased vehicle, time is up for my poor hips.

This news is a wake up call as well as a check to my mortality.  Apparently, taking care of yourself with boxing, Zumba, sculpting and boot camp were aggravating a condition that childhood gymnastics had started.  Who knew?

So, I will hit up physical therapy, medicate, stretch and just be a little more gentle with myself.

But not shake my hips?  Oh, hell no.  I'll be up front, doin' the damn thing, sweating and smelling my new signature scent-Icy Hot and Pacific Vanilla.

Don't judge the old chick... XO