Behind Her Back.(Essay)

Byline: Katherine Taylor

After years and years of slumped shoulders and sagging confidence, one woman finally mastered the skill of standing up straight.

I wanted a brace. I wanted a limp, if possible. I wanted lopsided shoulders, imbalanced hips, perhaps corrective surgery. I wanted special attention from Mr. Bellman, the dashing, six-foot-four P.E. instructor at school. As a child diagnosed with a very mild form of scoliosis, I prayed for it to get worse. My slouch was impressive, but a little dull. "Scoliosis" was a word so exotic, it sounded like it could do anything. At the very least, scoliosis confirmed I was remarkable. No one I knew had been blessed with such a condition. I embraced my bad posture like other children embraced their talents. I tried to perfect it.

Anyone over the age of ten knew that bad posture meant you were cool, nonchalant, a naughty rebel. I wanted to cultivate all these attractive qualities, so when my orthopedist father asked me every morning before leaving for work, "Did you do your back exercises?" I answered, "Yes!" although I never--not once--did my back exercises.

I embraced my bad posture like other children embraced their talents. I tried to perfect it.

I loved my slouch. I loved my slouch because it didn't require any effort on my part, unlike the droopiness of my less fortunate friends from school or soccer or tap dancing class, who hunched over their burgeoning breasts out of modesty, with a slump…