Even though I originally started "Young and Hip" to share my experience with other young people having a hip replacement (that's probably the only good thing about having a hip replacement....people constantly say, "But you're so young!" Yes, my hair may be more salt than pepper, but I am but a wee babe in arms when compared to the usual hip-replacement crowd), I've actually spent most of the 94,000 words I've written on this blog so far (that's 341 pages double spaced for those of you keeping track at home) talking about my anti-ass. (It's sentences like that one that are going to push me past the 350-page mark!)
My anti-ass, for those of you who don't name your body parts, refers to the fact that since my gluteus medius has become detached I've lost muscle tone in my rear end and now am literally half-assed. It's hella sexy. Normally, my concerns about my anti-ass are limited to the fact that the damn thing gets bruised when I sit on any surface that isn't my bed. Today, however, I made the mistake of taking my anti-ass shopping and it turns out that missing half your rear end when you're trying to buy pants is more annoying than Stacey London and her ever-increasing collection of catchphrases ("Shut! Up!" "Shut the front door!" "Oh, shut up!").
After my near-death experience last night, I thought I should reward myself with a little shopping. Since I've got a new job, I also wanted to get some more clothes that aren't made of sweat-pant material. (Hey, do you know how long it took post-hip-replacement for me to be able to even put on undies? Count your lucky stars I'm wearing pants). My mom and I went out to Coquitlam Center and it turns out that the Gap (before you sentence me to burn in yuppie hell, you should know that the Gap is the only clothing store who carries pants with a 36 inseam that do not cost $150) is having a massive sale. Trousers for $20!
That was the good news. The bad news is that my two legs have become two very different sizes. My right leg, which has spent the past 8 months shuttling around its useless friend Lefty, is a size 8/6. My gimpy leg, however, is about a size 4. (The fact that I share my pants size with all of cyberspace is maybe what A. means when he says that I should be more careful about what I write about and what image I'm presenting of myself. A. does not read 'Young and Hip,' but he has heard me talk about my anti-ass more times than he cares to count, so I think he maybe has a point). You'd think that since it's the ass that's detached, the rest of me would stay pretty much even. Not so! My left thigh has atrophied probably 2 or 3 inches. Even my left calf is smaller.
Seriously, this shit is crazy to look at. I should hire myself out to those internet diet-pill companies. They can take a picture of my right side as the "before" picture and then the left side as the "after" picture. One half of me is slowly turning into a supermodel. If I wasn't so conscious of what image I'm presenting to you people, I would post pictures. (Okay, give me two days and I'll probably post pictures).
You might be thinking to yourself, "Chill out, Arley. Don't Stacey and Clinton say that you should always tailor your clothes anyhow? Don't Stacey and Clinton say that you should dress the body you're in and be proud of it?" Yes, this is true, but the last time I checked Stacey and Clinton weren't waiting for surgery to determine whether or not their ass would grow back. Because, seriously, if all goes according to plan, after the surgery I'm going to do physio so hard that my anti-ass is going to transform into Super-Ass before you can say "too much information." And if that doesn't work, I'm going to lapse into a funk, live off Hagen-Daaz, and grow up ass the old fashioned way.