Ever since I was a teen, people have been telling me to fix my posture, particularly chiropractors and physical therapists. Just sit straighter. Picture a string attached to your sternum, lifting it up. Pull your shoulders back. But it always hurt so much to try.
My new physical therapist has a better explanation: The muscles at the front of my shoulders and across my chest are strong and short, while the ones in my upper back are long, floppy and weak. The solution? Work those trapezius muscles, named for the geometric shape they make on our shoulders and backs, and they will strengthen and shorten.
The distance between each shoulder blade and the spine should only be a couple of inches, she says. My gap is much wider than that. I am tempted to punch grommets along the inner line of my shoulder blades and lace them together across my back, like a corset.
Humans work those muscles by reaching overhead for things, something we don’t do as often these days. I imagine our ancestors picking fruit from trees, layering hides over wooden frames for shelter. But I also point out that, at 5 foot 2, I still have to do a lot of reaching, even to gather food off the shelves in the grocery store or my kitchen. She concedes the point, but still urges me to do the exercises.
She also tells me that I have a tendency to lean back when I stand or walk. It’s no wonder it hurts to pull my shoulders back further or puff my chest out. My whole torso needs to move forward, not further back.
It’s similar with my hips, which have been hurting for years. The muscles at the front of my hips, particularly the tiny tensor fascia lata and the larger rectus femoris, have been doing all the work of stabilizing my hips (and body!) while my glutes do fuck-all.
She tells me about “gluteal amnesia,” AKA “dead butt syndrome,” in which our important booty muscles have forgotten that they have a job. It’s a major cause of gluteus medius tendinopathy, which I definitely have and which has been the source of much of my hip pain.
As I try the exercises she gives me to wake my butt back up, I find that my glutes really have forgotten. When I try to use them, the tensor fasciae latae say, “here, let us do that,” and then they hurt because they’re already doing too much. It’s a bit of mental gymnastics to use the sleepy muscles while quieting the overachievers.
It reminds me of those group projects in school, in which one or two people do all the work while the slackers claim their share of the credit.
All of this is a byproduct of a life spent sitting at computers and on sofas, curled up like a prawn, hunched into a defensive posture. And in the world we live in, who can blame me? I think of my therapist, encouraging me to stand with my arms on my hips like Wonder Woman or spread in a tall V, like a champion. It always felt silly but she assures me that such postures make us feel more powerful and confident.
I’m firmly middle-aged. It feels like my muscles and connective tissues are turning into jerky and my body is screaming for estrogen (did you know that the joints in our bodies have estrogen receptors?) It feels good to find a physical therapist who understands bodies in a more holistic way. As much as I resent doing daily physical therapy exercises, I’m hopeful that this process will help my butt and upper back lose their amnesia before it’s too late.