The Unintended Consequence of Writing Like A BAMF

BAMFLast night I got home and lay down on my bed for some quality time with my tweeps. Everything was cool, everything was fine. About half an hour later, I got up to go to the bathroom. As I pushed up from lying down, I could feel something start to tweak in my lower back, and by the time I was standing up there was a full-on spasm taking place from my waist to my left hip. The rest of the night was spent prone with an electric heating pad and an aleve, mostly whining to anybody who’d listen on Twitter about just how much pain I was in. Got some great advice on stretching from some people over there, unfortunately when I tried it this morning I wanted to scream. So I think that’ll have to wait till after this strain/spasm/ache/pull/horror gets better.


BAMF cat is not quite as much of a BAMF as Samuel L. Jackson, but he's trying so hard.

BAMF cat is not quite as much of a BAMF as Samuel L. Jackson, but he’s trying so hard.

And here’s the thing: I know full well this is probably, at least in part, my fault. Because I’ve spent every spare minute of the last two months hunched over a keyboard, and because my day job requires me to sit at a desk at least 90% of the time. I felt the tension building in my back and shoulders – particularly over this weekend’s marathon playwriting session. I even went for a massage on Sunday afternoon when I’d finished, hoping to work out the worst of the kinks. The weekend may have resulted in a first draft, but it also resulted in me being crippled.

Lesson learned: a massage, my friends, does not core strength equal.

I’m consoling myself with the notion that I am a BAMF for having finished all that writing, and I am going to power through this, because that is what a bad-ass motherf*cker does when things get a little painful in the name of a good cause.

I’m also going to look at re-joining a gym when this clears up. Or finding some yoga classes. Gotta get back on the fitness train if I’m going to continue to churn out this much work. But I already know I’m a BAMF at the keyboard, so maybe being a BAMF at the gym is just the next step in the process to well-rounded BAMF-ness.

Wouldn’t you say?




2 responses to “The Unintended Consequence of Writing Like A BAMF

  1. My name is Peach and I approve this message.

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