Ode to the Frustration of the Fitness Ball

21 12 2012

Balancing Act

They vehemently deny me the use of a chair

for my sit upon, choosing instead to supply

a fitness ball for those times when “you might

be sitting down.” But my legs are too short

for this rubberized globe, so I find myself balanced

on the North Pole with my feet splashing

round near Australia. But after thirty minutes

on the Arctic circle the butt turns numb and starts

to slip towards Southern territories, namely the

Tropic of Cancer because that’s when my feet

touch the ground. But then my knees stick out

and seem to catch every cabinet handle. My sciatic

is thrown out of shape but the chiropractor doesn’t say

anything when she realigns my back in the very

same place as last time and the time before. So

with bruised knees and a sore spine I’ll continue to

sit, sway and fall on this accursed fitness ball,

waiting for the next free co-pay day.

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