“You’re getting a hunchback. I think you’ve got osteoporosis*,” a certain person** tells me. In fact, almost every time I see her these past few months, she expresses concern in regards to my rounding back.

I’d like to scream. But instead I say politely, “Well, that’s just the way I stand.”

No one has ever made an issue of my posture until now. And for the record, no one has ever had to. I’m painfully aware of my rounded shoulders and stance. I see it in the mirror, in photos, and even in video.

Over the years I’ve tried in earnest to correct this problem. But after as little as 10 minutes of standing perfectly straight, my back and shoulders begin to ache. I start to feel as if I can’t draw a deep breath. My neck and even the base of my skull start to throb. Frankly, standing straight is very uncomfortable.  And when I’m physically tired or feel emotionally beaten, I slump over even more. Although back and stomach exercises help, it doesn’t entirely remedy the pose. So over the past few years, I stopped trying. I pour my energy into something I deem far more constructive and simply cease to entertain any more posture-producing notions.

What this person doesn’t realize is, that each time she mentions this issue, she’s verbally sticking a knife into a wound that has never completely healed. I was a very awkward child. I was uncoordinated, dorky-looking and wore obvious hand-me downs. My working-class parents were (and still are) very high strung, strict people. I was painfully shy, socially awkward and equally as anxiety-riddled as they. I had no sense of self-worth. I was an easy target for put downs, insults and pranks from other girls AND boys. If I wasn’t getting picked on in class, it was coming from some other kid in a grade above me. If it wasn’t during class, it was happening at lunch, recess, standing in line for the bus or while riding the bus. Between myself and a good friend, (who I’m still friends with today) we were the “social rejects” of our class. I was constantly reminded of my family’s economical/social standing. We were, (gasp!) “have-nots” in a room full of “haves.” Most of those “haves” never let me forget that. (My sister had the same issues with the kids at our school.)

By fifth grade, I started slouching. Looking back it was a subconscious attempt to remain as invisible as possible. If I didn’t attract any attention, maybe no one would see me. If no one saw me, maybe I could get by without being made fun of? I think it did work to some extent. But it was also just one more thing that could be used against me by my peers as I got into junior high.

I went on to attend a public high school filled with other (gasp!) working class kids. Most of us had after school/weekend jobs. Most of us stressed over how we’d pay for college. The kids with the closet full of designer clothes were the ones that seemed out of place. High school was one of the happiest times of my life – I had friends who valued me for who I was. (I feel so lucky and proud to know them.)

High school, college, and early adulthood quickly passed. But I never have been able to shake the slouch. I can still remember quite vividly the teasing and tormenting. I am still a very shy person at heart. The thought of strangers noticing me fills me with dread. I still aspire to be invisible when out in public. And so I still slouch. But frankly? It works.

I know poor posture looks bad and can convey a negative first impression. But I’d like to think at this point in my life, people are able to see beyond something so superfluous. I’d like to think they notice my smile or value my sincerity more so than how erect I stand. I’m not an “improvement project”. I’m a person. I am who I am. If I’m ok with the way I stand, why can’t this person accept that? 

If I’m going to commit to enchancing anything it would be to better my marriage, writing skills or character. And that way of thinking isn’t going to change anytime soon.

*I don’t have osteoporosis.

**Person is related to me but not by blood.