I don’t care to admit I am waiting for a knee operation. It makes me feel mortal. I prefer the concept of Timeless Beauty, personally. I hide my pronounced limp on stage by sashaying my hips seductively. But stairs give me away. I have to take them one by one, sideways, gripping the rail with full geriatric detail. This is particularly embarrassing at the Stanley theatre: all the comp tickets are in the nose bleeds. I have to take those damn stairs down in front of all my peers. This is my first thought with Pride and Prejudice coming up. So, I will wear high heels and pretend they are giving me blisters. It’s career trouble, this. Nobody wants to hire a hobble horse. Especially not in this day and age when an actor has to know how to act, sing, play the french horn and walk a trapeze while filming herself.
This whole thing happened because I was jumping onto hard surfaces, lifting heavy weights and running like a maniac in Cross Fit. I didn’t hurt myself under my dear coach’s watchful eye, but in the classes. What was left of my ligaments – went – SNAP! 
So, for a year and a half now, still traumatized by all that exercise and the injury, I have hardly moved at all. I’ve gotten very good at sitting still for an extremely long time. I remind myself of my child’s leopard gecko. (minus a penchant for worms and all those spots)
I miss my jogging hot yoga self. Like a long lost love. I keep waiting waiting waiting for this operation instead of finding alternative types of exercise. But I have to admit, my body is starting to change. And here I thought some nasty elf had just thrown all my clothes in the dryer on hot. So, I am going to try this 10,000 steps a day app on my phone and see what’s what. It’s eleven in the morning and I’ve only done 432. Something tells me this will be a welcomed challenge. The other upside is, I have new incentive to sweep my floor more often. 433, 434…
My phone, with this app, is able to track my every step, even when my phone is “off”. This amazes me. (another geriatric detail) How clever. How do these things get invented? My mind is still boggled by the fax. I haven’t gotten over that yet. And yes, some worry about Big Brother and all that. But haven’t we all learned from action flicks? Just mail your phone to Antananarivo, Madagascar if you think you’re being followed. 
This sends me on a fantasy sequence of learning karate when I get my knee operation. Get my black belt by the time I’m 49. I fantasize about writing my own action flick and starring in it. Wearing a black spandex onesie with big black boots, running headlong down the stairs. Oh you just watch me. You just watch me as the doctors pull out my hamstring and fashion me a new ligament. I will be unstoppable.
I look over at my fax machine. My snoring old dog. My measuring tape. Can’t wait. Can’t wait.
