Read Chapter 1 “The First Week of School”
My Knee Is In Pain Again
September 25, 2018
After weeks of resting and a half a dozen physiotherapy sessions, my knee, in theory, should be as good as new. I didn’t exercise or walk as much as I planed over the summer. I wanted my knee to be ready for all the physical activities a new school year always throws my way.
However, the moment I started driving a little bit more than I did during the summer, my knee gave in. I honestly don’t know if this was the driving, the colder weather, or more physical strain, but my knee was screaming for attention. As soon as I could, I made yet another appointment with Jim’s friend, a physiotherapist who gave me sessions in the summer. I had no particular problems with him before that last session, or possibly I failed to notice that he was a fucking moron.
His asshole-like attitude was noticeable from the moment I walked through the door. I was two minutes late; It happens, it’s London. Sometimes you can’t get on time to places regardless of how early you leave. Besides, the moment school is back in session, driving across the capital becomes challenging.
Of course, I was apologetic and explained that I got stuck in traffic. He clearly didn’t appreciate that and right away begun bombarding me with pretty personal questions, which made me feel incredibly uncomfortable. After our brief Q&A session, the rest of the visit became nightmarish.
During the last session we had, he gave me a strengthening exercise, which I did daily for a few weeks. But according to him, I was doing the whole exercise wrong. Even though it was precisely the way, he demonstrated.
After pointing out that I just wasted my time doing the exercise, he proceeded with more criticism, but this time he decided to insult my diet. Believe me; he knows very little about food. Once he was done pointing out how my vegan diet was unhealthy, he couldn’t stop himself from insisting that joining the gym is stupid and pointless. According to him, I should be interacting with my environment, and going to the gym will never offer that. I live in London, at times the pollution is so fucking high that I have difficulties breathing while in the car.
But the most out of place and in some respect humiliating was when out of the blue he announced that I was getting old and I must be going through early menopause because I experienced a heat stroke over the summer. Since he is an expert and knows all about heat strokes and menopause, he couldn’t spare me his opinion. He just blurted it all out with no consideration of how insensitive and out of place his words and comments were. I don’t give a fuck that he is Jim’s mate. The chauvinistic pig will see none of my money ever again. How dare he or anyone else judge me by my age, pains or family history. Who does that?
I should have left right then and there, but I didn’t. I guess being a “nice girl” sticks to grown women too, as much as it does to the young girls. This is undoubtedly not the way I’m teaching my daughters to be like. If someone or something makes them uncomfortable, they will need to speak up or leave. Life is too short to accept and put up with other’s bullshit.
Since I don’t like leaving things on a negative note with people at the end of the session, I asked him about specific exercise I could do as a part of my training. He quickly scanned the front page of my training program, and looked at, looked at the clock above his head. He didn’t even know how to answer my question and was in such a rush to get me out that it was painful to watch. In conclusion, I didn’t matter the moment the hour was over. What kind of customer service is that?
After my session with the asshole, I headed off to pick up the girls. I was trying to calm myself down; I didn’t cry, no asshole of such a small proportion could make me cry, but I was unkind to my girls and didn’t allow them to play in the park with their friends after school. I was so pre-occupied with my inner anger that I didn’t even listen to their stories on our way back.
Women put up with a lot of passive-aggressive behaviour from blokes who feel entitled to give us their opinions about ourselves and our life choices. However, I have to say that on that very day, something has changed in me. I can’t put my finger on what that was, but I’m more than certain that I will never again allow any man make me feel uncomfortable, walk all over me, or make me feel like I don’t matter. I didn’t say anything to Jim. I doubt he would have understood. Most likely, he would have laughed it off and put it down to my vivid imagination and seeing problems where they don’t exist. Besides, I haven’t spoken to him for at least a week. I know he is around, but he gets in when I’m already asleep and in the morning he is the first one to leave the house. He must be working on something big, I guess.