Well, with the fact that I’m into this hip journey with six hip surgeries, I certainly don’t (and will never) have buns of steel, but I figured I could have puns of steel! Or, at least I could try.
A fellow hippie reached out to me last night and we were trying to uplift each other’s spirits with a bit of laughter. We both realized that we have a wicked sense of humor most times and it is a coping strategy for both of us. It helps with the frustration and the discouragement. It is what we both use to harvest hope and we both realize the incredible gift that being humerus is.
Psoas as I was saying, a sense of humor certainly uplifts and encourages when all else appears to be dire. But the bottom line is that my hips are radioactive from all of the CT scans and X-rays, but fortunately I don’t have a toxic waist! And, of course, I’m so frustrated that I continue to have hip problems, much to my dysplasia. And I get so tired of my doctor confirming my hip injury. I always wonder if it’s because I’m trendy.
One of my strategies is to try to not focus on my hips, but it is just not twerking! I am so frustrated. But, I guess the good news is that I’m so hip that I could be called P-Elvis!
And, of course, there is the daily struggle that I wake up to every day. I just can’t seem to get through the day without Keurig. I do love my coffee, but also love condiments on my sense of humor. I’d like to relish the fact that you’ll mustard up the courage to ketchup to my level.
So with that, I will bid adieu with these tearable puns. And I promise when I dream in color about my hip hope, is it not a pigment of my imagination.
Keep laughing, keep hopeful and keep that smile.
(Puns compliments of Google search)