Nice Melon!

My therapist keeps telling me I should hold my head up. I went to a chiropractor to get a second opinion, and he wholeheartedly agreed. Holding my head up will alleviate a lot of the pain.

According to the xray, my neck literally tips forward, my upper spine bent from the weight of my head. So for several days I've been consciously trying to lift what feels like a bowling ball sitting on a golf tee, to free up the knots and the stress. It's exhausting. So much easier to just let it hang.

When my oldest daughter was born, we called her "Tweety Bird;" her round head was disproportionately large, and it was impossible to imagine she would ever be able to balance it on top of her spindly little body. But -- and I'm not bragging here even though it was quite an impressive developmental milestone -- she held that thing up within two months, ramrod straight. It was a sign of physical strength, for sure, but what I didn't realize then was how much it foreshadowed her strength of character and emotional fortitude. It takes a lot more than muscle to keep your head up high.

Rumors and twisted versions of tales are spreading through Harper Valley like wild fire, the flames catching and being sucked down cross streets as they burn through intersections, smoke oozing through all the open spaces. Sometimes I feel like I'm choking. Where the hell is my fantasy fire fighter when I need him?

If I don't hang my head, my throat starts to burn and my eyes start to sting, but I'm trying to heed the advice of health professionals. Each day, the muscles in the back of my neck feel a tiny bit stronger, and each day I fight back the poisonous fiery breath of the neighborhood dragon, and I breathe. The air is still a bit toxic, but that's what the exhales are for.

I don't think I'll ever slay the dragon, but I don't need to. All I need is to beat it back, to keep it at bay. When the going gets tough, I can always tie a lead weight or two to my low pony tail. But if an infant can muster up the energy to lift up what must feel like a melon, I hardly think a fifty-year old woman has an excuse for a sloping neck.

And once I master the head holding milestone, I'm going to get to work on the social smiling. These days, it's usually just gas.