I Kinked My Neck

It happened in my sleep last night.  Woke up with a rabid animal in my neck.  My first thought was a happy one: Maybe I'll get to wear a neck brace!

Only 41 and things are falling off the man.

Ever since I was a child, I've wanted to wear a neck brace.  If I saw a teacher or student wearing one, I became filled with envy.  I'd get the same feeling for people with casts or crutches.  Other kids signing the casts.  People giving way to the kid with crutches.  Where's mine? I wondered.  How do I get one of those?  My eyesight was fine, my arms and legs did what they were told, I didn't ride my skateboard into traffic.  I was a failure.

Basically, I was a kid begging to be a participant in a six-car pileup.

I felt the same way about kids with glasses.  But not braces, predictably enough.  Those kids had issues.

So here I am, rapidly approaching my childhood dream of the Ideal Me.  At 87, when I'm rolling around in a wheelchair with hearing aids in both ears and horn-rimmed glasses propped on my nose, I'll be a champion!