My back hurts so fucking much.
My chiropractor doesn’t think it’s a disc; he says it’s a bad loop of a tense muscle stomping on a nerve which then makes the muscle more tight which makes the nerve fire.
Well that sucks. But at least it isn’t a disc.
His advice was for me to stretch so I do yoga three to five times a week and I stretch every single night. He also said I should strengthen my core.
I can shoulder mount.
I can do crunches all day. I can plank for 5 minutes. How do I even start strengthening my core?
Tabby astutely pointed out that my abs must be strong enough to compensate for my weaker (and problematic) muscles that are causing my back pain. I don’t even know where to begin with getting to those other muscles.
Fortunately Tabby had a solution for me.
She recommended I meet with Chris, a young trainer who she has been seeing to help her relieve back pain she has from mountain biking.
I’d rather mess around with handstands with a fine young trainer than fuck around in the gym so why not. And it’s totally fun.
I realize that this doesn’t sound like much fun with all that groaning and grunting, but it actually is. After each session he stretches me out, which I like to call squishing. It goes like this: I get into a stretch position and he leans on me until I can’t take it any more and then doesn’t let me up for three minutes.
It is very effective.
Here he is squishing Nina.
Partner stretchings hurts so bad, but also so good.
I get creepily post-coital after getting stretched out which feels even weirder when I hand him some money, or when I say shit like, “You know you’ve had a good session with Chris when you walk funny the rest of the day.”
Being able to do and say stupid like that is what I live for these days.
Tabby is hard core hooking me up.
In addition to hiring a smoking hot yoga instructor to teach at 6am (thanks for that early morning motivation, Tabby) she connected me with Chris.
I’m sharing the love by getting all my girlfriends interested in hand balancing sessions with Chris because that’s what friends are for.
Plus, every pole dancer I know wants to stand on her hands because who doesn’t want to be like Michelle Shimmy?
Or Samantha Star?
I’ll never be either of them, but it’s way more exciting when I hold my handstand for a few seconds than lifting stupid weights. I’ll keep you posted on my progress.