I am all about a little well-placed bondage.

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There’s no decent or moral way to segue out of that, so I’ll spare you, sufficed to say that I am more than capable of staying absolutely still when necessity dictates it so.  Usually.  Only when it’s awesome.

What’s not awesome is having some unknown thing totally freaking wrong with you.  I have seen SO MANY doctors trying to figure out what the hell is causing certain parts of my body to wage global-thermo-nuclear-warfare on certain other parts of my body, and none of them have found anything wrong with me.  So I decided to up the ante.  I found A) a good doctor who B) actually asks a question on occasion.  And unlike the 8,327 other doctors who all took enough of my sacred blood out of me with their sharp, pointy needles and their rubber bands to keep all your precious Twilight characters quite youthful and angsty for sequels to come, this one said, “Hey, let’s have a look-see at your spine!”

See, my back is NOT awesome.  My back is trying to audition for Cirque De Soliel without the rest of me.  My back wants to be the next Hot Wheels Christmas season racetrack.  My back can bite me.  When I was in 4th grade and they did those spine checks that they do at school, well, they did at MY school, shut up, they threw around words like ’scoliosis’ and ‘that’s not going to be fun later’.  The last time I had x-rays on my spine, 10 years ago, my chiropractor said, “Um, okay.  We’ll be seeing a LOT of you for the next rest of your life.”  And then I heard the sound of a very distinct “Cha-ching!”  I would have kept seeing him, because god knows he helped, but I never could get over the fact that every time I was within 20 feet of him, all I could think was SERIAL KILLER TOE SUCKING LIVER EATER.  Which is really not cool when he’s got your neck in his creepy hands.  Good thing I was 80 pounds overweight in the not-hot way or I know I’d be living in his ice box right now.  I don’t like to be cold, yo.  Or dead.

The point is that my the bones in my cervical spine (neck) curve the wrong way, that the middle of my spine is (or was, last time we checked) spinning around like a drunk ballerina, and 10 years ago, my lumbar vertebrae (lower spine) had condensed themselves down from many to one, just like the borg.  Awesome.

I spend a lot of time being fairly uncomfortable in various places.  Ibuprofen is my BFF.  It gets much worse when it’s that time of the month, which has sent me and a mess of doctors on an endometriosis goose-chase, with the end result being a very conclusive Maybe.  But today at 4:30, I get to harness all of my pent up bad girl bondage diggin’ aggression on one of these babies:

Yeah, that’s not hot.  That’s all the “Don’t you move a damn muscle” and “bossy people in uniform” without the snuggle and the smoke after.  I am actually completely nervous about the whole thing, which is odd only because I have had 2 full, long, glorious months to get used to the idea (God bless you, Canadian Health Care system.)  That?  Does not look fun.  That looks like less fun than driving through the Holland Tunnel, and the last time I drove through the Holland Tunnel, I spent the whole time throwing up in the paper bag I was supposed to be hyperventilating into.  And I doubt they’ll let me take pictures, which means it won’t even be fun for you.

Wanna know what totally does rock about it?  That my husband about did a cartwheel when I told him this was happening, not because his wife might finally be able to shut the fuck up already with her whining find out why she hurts all the time, but because he thought for one fleeting moment that they’d make me remove my nosering that I’ve never taken out, and don’t even know how to, before they put me in that big, sci-fi nightmare, living casket thing.

And he was SO wrong.  Haha, sucka.