That’s right. I was a Human Guinea Pig
I spent a few weeks ago that only an unemployed person could have. All you employed people with your utility-paying ways and new shoes, consider this a taunt. I would never have taken a day off work to spend a day like I spent. The elementary school my children attend was closed for business. If I was working in the traditional “get paid”/”don’t wear the same yoga outfit for three days” sort of way, I would have sent the twins to Aftercare at school or made them panhandle or something. So on the day in question, I invited a friend over for breakfast with her son, recently diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome. We wanted both our sons with autism to hang out and not talk to each other (sorry- autism humor) in parallel play. We lingered for 90 indulgent minutes, getting to know each other better over coffee/tea. Rare Girl time.After the breakfast crowd left, I made lunch for the grown daughter of a friend from Oklahoma. I got to spend an hour getting to know this lovely young woman who I can’t believe is a freshman in college. It was fun to look through a window into her world, the things that are important to her, clue her in to the best dance clubs/bars in town (duh- the gay ones). Mother figures have to be good for something when you’re six hours from home. She can get home-cooked meals over break and you don’t visit Auntie Mame to do your laundry.I spent the afternoon with a young friend studying to be a Physical Therapist. She needed a pain volunteer. Inconveniently, I don’t have any pain, but I thought it’d be fun to be a human guinea pig. Unwilling to ram myself into a tree in the name of pain science, I was allowed to feign pain (much better than actually having pain) in front of an audience. If she had been a better friend, I totally might have considered trying to pull a groin by doing the splits, but there you have it. The friend, classmates and teacher watched me do fascinating middle-aged lunges, pretend yoga moves and feats of physical strength like sitting in a chair several times in a row. They spent 90 minutes discussing points of interest on my carcass. They talked about what my muscles were doing, and, let’s be honest, no longer doing. How I stand funny. How my hips don’t match up. In case you’ve never tested it, you can totally hold in your stomach and pretend you have good posture for ninety minutes.
Despite how kind they were whilst discussing my anatomy, I could only think of one thing throughout the entire time I volunteered my body for science: “Gawd. Next time I’m wearing a flippin’ girdle.”