Those little nuances that make us us, but that we oftentimes wish didn’t.
I for one am knock kneed.
And if we’re being completely honest – also a little pigeon toed.
Sometimes, a lot pigeon toed.
It was something that was known almost from the time I was born, and my parents took me to see a specialist when I was maybe three or four years old. I guess most of the time this corrects itself with age, but with me - no such luck.
The official diagnosis had something to do with the fact that my hips were in their sockets wrong. I could call my dad and ask him for more details now, but I would bet $100 that he wouldn’t remember anymore. And obviously I have very little recollection of the entire event myself, considering how young I was. I vaguely remember being told to walk up and down a hallway while some old guy watched me, and then years later having to pretty much strip down for a series of uncomfortable x-rays where they had me bend into a bunch of awkward positions. That’s the extent of my memories of that though.
In the end, nothing was done. No braces or physical therapy. I’m pretty sure it was simply decided that the situation wasn’t exactly repairable without major interventions, and since I was walking and functioning fine – major interventions would have been overkill.
Either that, or my parents were just too cheap to fix my legs.
In which case – thanks a lot.
In the long run, it hasn’t ever presented much of a problem beyond the basic cosmetic issues. There was that one time in Junior High when I tripped over my own knees in track and field and landed in the sand pit, but besides that… my biggest concern has always been simply how it looks.
Over the years, I trained myself to turn my feet out when I walked. Now, unless I’m incredibly tired or a little bit tipsy – that tends to do the trick. People really only pick up on it if I’m sitting on the ground (since I tend to sit a little differently), or if they are trained to pay attention to people’s bodies (for instance, both Teeny and Dr. PT picked up on it on my very first appointments with them).
Still… it’s something I have always been self conscious of. When I was younger, I am embarrassed to admit that I was the proud member of a group of “mean girls”. Like all junior high cliques though, this group had a vicious habit of turning on each other. And when it was my turn to be the butt of all jokes – it was often my legs that took the biggest hits. I still distinctly remember one girl who would turn her toes and knees in, stick her butt out, and quack up and down the aisle of the school bus like a duck, all the while saying over and over that she was me.
Fun times.
As an adult, I have found ways to hide this deformity of mine from most people. I intentionally never wear shorts, even when I was living in Arizona. If people can't see my knees, they don't pick up on it as quickly. I also always make a conscious effort to pay attention to where my feet are pointing when I’m standing up. I have a tendency to let them turn in when I'm tired or uncomfortable, so I try to always be aware of that and keep it from happening.
The vast majority of the time I would bet that most people would never even guess that there was something wrong with my legs. Which is exactly how I like it.
But last night at boot camp, my dirty little secret became pretty blatantly clear.
We were working on a new exercise that involved having your feet on a bar, heels touching and knees still firmly placed together while we pushed in and out. I couldn’t do it though. I physically couldn’t keep both my knees and my heels together while moving back and forth. My knees pushed my heels apart every time.
The instructor came by and tried to help. I could see her looking at my legs and trying to figure out what I was doing wrong. Puzzling over how it was that I couldn’t seem to get the motion right.
And then suddenly, the light bulb went on and she proclaimed “Oh! You’re knock-kneed! Don’t worry about this one then. Just do…” and she named off some other exercise I have already since forgotten.
I’m pretty sure I turned beat red after having been found out. I had never even considered for a second that my legs may hold me back in any way in Pilates. Or that the moves involved would make my dirty little secret so clear to others.
I guess there are some things about ourselves that we just can’t hide all the time, no matter how hard we try. And in my case; if it looks like a duck…
I sat stewing in my own embarrassment for a few minutes longer. Cursing my deformed legs and the mean girl who once upon a time made me loathe them so.
But then… A girl a few machines over tooted.
Multiple times.
I can’t say I blame the girl. We were bending and twisting and thrusting our butts in the air. I’m sure it’s only natural.
It probably could just have easily have happened to me.
But the fact of the matter is – it didn’t happen to me. It happened to her.
And the mean girl inside of me let out a little giggle. In my head of course. Because doing so out loud would have just been cruel. And incredibly immature.
I may be 12 sometimes, but I’m not a jerk.
Still… It really put things into perspective for me.
I may be the girl whose duck legs keep her from doing certain Pilates moves for life, but…
At least I’m not the girl who farted in class.
It wasn't me.
