Like a toddler she teaches me how to walk correctly. Now. Now!!! Uh!
|At the Miracle Garden, unaware I wasn’t walking right
“Heel first…no. Heel first. Tighten your core…knees straight..stamp…why is this…one more round…come on…”
Her explanation: I don’t distribute my weight equally on both legs, instead I sway my hips way too much stressing my lower vertebrae.
So much for the science of embarrassment! Just when I was learning to swallow my pride, there came another trainer who claims to have my best interests in mind – only because he knows my dad’s ancestral family. Now this is what I say blind affection, because I have no memories of my paternal grandparents.
Voluntarily promising to find me a solution, he just about stopped short of saying I look like a scare crow in a paddy field – ‘A pair of thin limbs supporting an upper half that is heavier in proportion, making you wobble, is one of the reasons for back ache.’
I wanted to grab a burqa and hide inside but I couldn’t jump off the treadmill. So I did the best I could. Looked around, ignoring him, pretending to be lost in thought. But lo! I saw no heads, no bodies, no hands, no monitors or equipment even. Just pairs of muscular sweaty thighs and derriere all around me that zoomed in and out with my steps!
I packed my bag and hurried out saying something like, “Oh! I didn’t realise my daughter will be back home early today.” [My little girl comes to my rescue at all times]
It was only after I saw some vehicles on wheels on the road that my vision regularised. Soon I remembered the rest of his prognosis. “You have broad hips. So it’s more important to have stronger legs…’
Did he actually say that! How I wish I had recorded it. At once I felt feminine. Back home, I locked myself in the bedroom and stood before the mirror. Desperate I even jumped up and walked back and turned around, studying my hips from all possible angles.
An anxious husband began knocking, wanting to know what I’m up to. And I selectively told him only the compliment.
With the casualness of dismissing a fly, the husband replied, “Ah! that guy confused your waist for hip.”
Seeing my man stifle a smile, I seethed in silence or so I thought…
…‘Uh!..judging my steps. He walks as if he’s got diapers between his legs and teaching me! And that woman, how dare she…’
“Who mama?” I was jolted awake by my amused girl beside me. “Who is the diaper man?”
The dad replied: “You don’t know beta. That’s mama’s grandfather’s neighbour’s sister’s son’s nephew’s…”
Dad and daughter enjoyed another evening…at my expense!