Milestone: My Knees

One of the signs and limitations of morbid obesity is decreasing mobility. Partly from exhaustion, partly from sheer size, partly from a deep sense of self-preservation, I learned how to cut down movement to its bare minimum. In this way, obese individuals are ruthlessly efficient. If it requires too much movement or too risky of a movement, that task goes on the list of "can't dos" or "won't dos" in our lives. 

A somewhat minor one on my ruthlessly efficient list was mopping my floor. Most of my main living space is decorated in an oh-so-stunning orange tile that runs through my kitchen, living area and into the bathroom. Mopping my floor is usually on my list of weekend chores each weekend but it was usually the first task to fall off the the list and one of the last ones I ever got to (right after scrubbing down the bathtub and changing my sheets). 

Suffice it to say, that except for a major spillage or an unprecedented burst of energy, mopping my floor has consumed very few of the minutes of my life over the last few years. Mostly due to the fact that I was birthed by a woman that believes the only true way to mop your floor is on your hands and knees (better to see the dirt). Getting on my hands and knees at nearly 350 pounds was a task indeed. The breathing, the heaving, the settling, the pain. I just didn't spend a lot of time down there because mostly when I did it was really hard to get back up. 

The funny thing is that when you are overweight these things annoy you but they become so much the fabric of your life that you are not consciously aware of just how hard it is to live in a big body until one of those obstacles is removed from your plate. 

Well, one of those obstacles was removed from my plate this weekend: I mopped my floor on my hands and knees. And the best part? It didn't even hurt. 

Something to do with losing 50 pounds, having loads of energy, and exercising a ton must have affected the state of my body. I actually felt a bit agile through the entire task. 

I popped down on my knees and wiped and scrubbed and popped back up to rinse the rag out and get it set again. I cleaned under furniture and behind furniture. I mopped from the bathroom at one end to my study at the other end. I just kept moving and doing. And suddenly, I had mopped my floor, it took me nearly no time at all, and I didn't even hurt in my back, hands, wrists, knees or anywhere. 

A rare gift.

I think I can really get the hang of this cleaning thing when it doesn't involve full body torture. In fact, I dare say it was halfway enjoyable. Now, that is something to think about.