My Back Story

I have a crooked past.

I’m not speaking metaphorically, either.

When I was 12, I went to the doctor because my back hurt. Here’s what we found out:

(That, btw, is a Polaroid picture, for those of you who have never seen one — it’s kind of like a cross between a digital camera and an Etch-a-Sketch)

My spine was 45 degrees off center at the top and 55 degrees off center at the bottom.

Ouch.

So, a week after my thirteenth birthday, I was in the Orlando Regional Medical center having my back sliced open, my spine fused together, and new-fangled steel rods drilled into my vertebrae.

It hurt. But just for a few weeks. I got over it and, since then, I’ve hardly had any back problems at all.

No, magnets do not stick (my friends tried that when I returned to school). And no, I do not set off the alarms when I go through airport security.

But I do have exceptionally good posture. Even relaxed, I am straight as a board. My mom never had to get on to me about that. No way. Not to mention, when I get older, I won’t shrink, nor will I have a hunch back. So na-na-na-na-na on all you people whose backs bend.

Here’s a shot of me, standing up perfectly straight without even having to think about it:

Yea, I know you’re jealous.

So what about you? Any other crooked pasts out there?

 

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