On my eighth visit, standing there in my shorts, I finally say to the physical therapist (suspecting her answer will be “no”), “could there possibly be something wrong with your mirror? Because I look about twenty pounds fatter in it than in my mirror at home.”
Instead, she answers, “Yes, it hangs funny because it’s so wide.”
Yes! I shout, inside my head. High five! shouts my inner Borat.
She tells me my lower abdominal muscles are uncoordinated.
Why should they be any different than the rest of me, I say.
Or maybe I just think it.