Regular readers will be aware of the work of Anuja, who was once my personal trainer. She had her good points, like being able to spin in the air, but mainly she threw things at me and told me very long stories about people I do not know.Anuja left to take up a career as a mobile masseuse and astrologer. Virgin Active took over Holmes Place; we were given new branded haversacks and a man with a moustache squatted in a poster that told us that if we forgot our pass cards, we would have to pay for another. Christmas, New Year, the wedding of my best friend and a delicious Pathologist came and went; I went to Bedford, saw a tiny baby inside a lady's tummy, put a cardboard box on my head to amuse a small child, and went to Amsterdam to Consider My Options.
But all of this Activity (including long walks in France with emergency cake in my pocket), could not detract from the fact that my arse remains Quite Considerable and my tummy - which is in fact an alien appendage created by boy scientists in the Pilsbury Dough Factory - continues to hang in a strange, almost apologetic way. (And this is Without Consideration of The Rest Of It.) There has been Little Gym Action of late and I have been feeling stiff and blobby, and like I am seeping over the edge of things when really, I am not.
Today, my arse hanging behind me, I rushed to the gym to meet my new personal trainer. He is called Nick (a name I have always liked), and immensely tall, as tall as a lamp-post, and cannot touch his toes. When it is cold, snow gathers on his head. Birds build nests in his hair. He is kind and gentle and you do what he asks as he would be sad if you didn't.
He made me do 50 situps, very fast. I was a bit sick in my mouth. And then me made me do 50 pressups, quite fast, but halfway through he shouted STOP!, so I stopped. No more sick came, but sweat went into my eyes and I blinked a bit. "I'm NOT CRYING", I said. "No, I know", he said, "but let me look at your elbows".
My elbows are a bit odd. Only last Thursday the lady with the tiny baby inside her (and the 2-year-old who only likes me when my head is stuck in a cardboard box), looked at my elbows and called me a freak. They sort of swivel around you see, my elbows, in an odd way.
Nick, who is so tall that he cannot fit his head in a normal car, told me that I had "hyperelastic" elbows. "Hyperelastic?", I said. "Well, that or hypo-elastic", said Nick. "Hypo- or hyper", I said, "I think you are saying I have WEIRD elbows". "Yes", said Nick, "You have Weird Elbows. In fact, I think you may be a freak." After that, he made me do other things, things that are the gym equivalent of cod liver oil and spinach, and said: "Not bad. For a FREAK".
I think I like Nick.
24 comments:
Do they bend round more than 180 degrees? I once went out with someone with elbows like that. It would be a brilliant story if it turned out that it was you, but I am fairly sure that it wasn't, as you sound quite pleasant and normal and it turned out that she wasn't. We didn't split up because of the elbows though, if that is of any reassurance to you.
Hmm they sort of swivel, so the inside of my elbow twists round until it is parrallel with my wrist, and the back of my hand. Does that make sense?
It could have been you. Do you wear red corduroy trousers and drink your dead grandfather's constipatioon medicine? Just asking.
Constipation, I mean.
Would your wierd elbows be related to your dodgy ankles, by any chance? Something to do with ligaments being too long or too short, or was that Runningmonkey?
I've been practising, and I think I can do it too (not 50 press-ups - I would cry). And I can spell parallel. But, otherwise, I am only older than you, not wiser.
Oh my God...
No. Close, but no cigar. (Wrong colour cords.)
They don't sound quite as freaky as my ex's elbows though, not that this is a competition as to who has the freakiest elbows. Imagine being at the top of a press-up, supporting your full body weight with locked arms - you would expect your arms to be straight, right? Well, hers would have gone past straight, and now be bent about 15 degrees the other way. Not that I made her do press-ups whilst I held a protractor against her arm. Anyone who says I did is lying.
I'm afraid that I will need photographic evidence of your freaky elbows (in both "rotated" and "non-rotated" positions) so that I can make a judgment as to whether your elbows are indeed freakier than hers. I will have to remember my ex's elbows from memory though as 200 yards is too far away to get a good photo from.
I knew SOME smartarse would pick me up on my spelling. Yes do you know I think it is related to the ankles - RM and I have the same problem. Can you roll your tongue? Genetic too innit. I think you can do the arm thing; I've seen you do it.
Oh yes!
Tongue-rolling? Certainly not. But I think your aunt can do it, along with seafood. What does that tell you?
For the record, I think constipatioon is a much better word. It would also rhyme with maroon and brigadoon, so would be appropriate. Please pass it on to Mr Oxford, so that he modifies his dictionary.
While he does so he could also revise his definitions for broiling and grilling, I hear they're a bit off.
You are not alone in your freakery. I can do all sorts of bendy things too, including your elbow thing.
My fingers are ridiculous and I can make people feel sick by just placing my palm on a table and bending my fingers up and back.
I often sit cross-legged and people tell me "that can't be comfortable", yet it is. I am incapable of sitting normally with both feet on the ground, I have to have one leg bent and twisted around a bit to feel comfortable.
SV, I am rubbish at maths so cannot Judge! I will ask a scientist friend to judge but suffice to say I think your 15 degrees may be about right. Did you use your grandfather's hairbrushes as well?
Maman, YOU'RE the one who can do the weird neck thing. I'm just saying.
J-boy, grilling is when you put something under a single source of direct heat, and roasting is when you put something in an oven and surround it by heat. What is 'broiling'?
Anxious - have you got Weird Ankles that turn over a lot as well? I know what you mean re. sitting - cross legged in at weird angle most comfortable, and am ALWAYS fidgeting. I am keen on the both legs bent and up to the side position (sitting, not Like That).
tsk tsk tsk. Your 'grilling' is broiling. Grilling is cooking something on a grill, strangely enough.
Snottyboy, hello and welcome. No need to tut, I am more than aware of the distinction between all of these things. Yet again, I am attempting to be ironic and sharing an oblique and mildly in-joke with a dear and regular commentatatatator. That'll learn me!
Unless, of course, my regular and dear commentatatatator is assuming a pseudonym in order to trick me!
Yes, my ankles often give way when I'm walking along, minding my own business. My friend once witnessed this and, knowing I'm a Londoner, claimed that I was doing "The Lambeth Walk". I laughed a lot.
I used to like the name Nick until I dated a guy named "Nyk".
I sincerely wish I had made that up.
That is Genius, my friend. Also very strong:
Nikki
Nikkie
Marc (if not French)
Raychel
Anthony (with 'th' pronounced 'th' not 't')
And a thousand more I can't remember because my head hurts after "Nyk".
I have a good friend called 3Nik.
The 3 is silent of course.
I can neither twist my ankles, elbows, or any other part of my body, or exercise. I have been stamped with the seal of failure when it comes to that sitting up, pushing up, running up, throwing up stuff. As for Nick, I know someone named Nick. Saint Nick. He brings me presents for Christmas.
Nyk---looks too much like the noise the Three Stooges made nyuk nyuk nyuk.
I got a call at work today from a woman with a foreign accent. I dared not repeat her name back to her because it sounded like she said her name was "Large".
Upper Case-"the 3 is silent"-very funny!
Nick...isn't that British slang for stealing something? Innnit? oops-too many episodes of East Enders viewed here.
Tiphanie, hello and welcome. Are you also a Tiffany? I am Intrigued!
Martina - yes it is, but fear not, little confusion arises.
Anon -please do not encourage Upper Case L: he/she/it is unbearable already.
UCL - you remind me: I knew someone called Nik once. Cris is also unforgivable.
Back to the really shocking thing: all those sit-ups and everything! You are very brave. I would certainly have been crying.
I really like the Lambeth Walk. Shall claim this when I next wobble along a pavement - sorry - sidewalk.
P.S. I believe that sidewalk is mentioned in Jane Austen as is, of course, baseball. We also used to say gotten, I believe, but then we dove in at the deep end and got with it.
Google Hypermobility - it will explain all...
(Yes, I suffer from over-flexible joints too: handy for certain physical situations, embarassing for others)
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