Woman of Privilege (WoP)

Thursday, I had a busy day.

• I went to the YMCA and rode the exercise bike for 50 minutes.
• I checked Facebook and contacted a friend who was giving away tickets to the Pacific Northwest Ballet's dress rehearsal for Romeo et Juliette. 
• The same friend contacted me and I learned her father died. Stopped at Trader Joe's to buy her snacks and flowers.
• Went to lunch with another friend.
• Came home to let dog walker and our house helper in, and got them organized.
• Went shopping with Claire Adele to get her a dress and shoes for the Winter Ball.
• Crammed in a quick round of my PT home exercises and ate half a sandwich.
• Responded to philanthropic luncheon invitation.
• Went to the ballet.

This is the busiest day I have had since my injury. All of this is fine and good, except I sound like the the biggest woman of privilege (WoP) ever when I have to list it out, which is what I was preparing to have to do at my Friday physical therapy appointment. I don't need to work and aside from not being able to walk properly, it would appear from the outside that I really don't have any major problems in my life. I was worried how vacuous I would sound to my physical therapy team, not that they care what I do every day. My PT team likely sees dozens of patients each week, and all have different backgrounds, form college athletes to elderly people, and everyone in between. I wonder what I look like to people outside of my social circle. This experience pulls into focus what my life is like as I have to explain myself to new people. I am seeing myself more from the outside. I could say my school board campaign did the same thing, but then I was trying to send a specific message to voters. Here there are seeing me as a person versus being part of a campaign, which is in many ways a public job interview.

Friday wasn't much different. After PT, I went to Nordstrom's Rack and bought a new handbag (okay, two) that can fit a water bottle, books, and magazines, in addition to the usual purse stuff. I "needed" a new bag because a) I need a bag to bring to the Y while I bike, and I figure I'll use this new bag daily for the next three months, at least, and b) I am stick of the green backpack I've been carrying since my injury in December. I put the new bag(s) on my Nordstrom's card, the card that carries pretty much luxury expenses, i.e., things I want but don't need, like the new dress for my daughter and a new purse. This card does not carry grocery or gasoline charges. When this bill comes, it screams "Time to pay for all of those fancy things!"*

My angst is exacerbated by reading Ta-Nehisi Coates' Between the World and Me this week. I was pained to see how simple and safe my life is compared to Coates'. The worst part of my day on Thursday was shopping with my tall, thin and beautiful daughter and her equally tall, thin beautiful friend. I felt like a pudgy, limping toad standing next to them. I don't have to worry about my son getting shot for wearing a hoodie, or facing discrimination at school and around town.

Evan, my physical therapist, was looking at my knee Friday morning. He has digging into the back of my knee harder than last time I saw him on Tuesday.

"What did you do yesterday?"

Shit, I thought. "I worked out, brought stuff to a friend whose father died, went to lunch with a friend, took my daughter dress shopping and went to the ballet."

"Shopping with your daughter? Where'd you go?"

"Northgate," I said. "She is going to the Winter Ball Saturday and she needed a new dress and some shoes." Sure, I could have dropped her off at Value Village or Goodwill, but you need to start shopping at those places weeks before the dance and go often to find something good. We were looking at the last minute.

He thought for a few seconds. "Your knee must have a lot of load yesterday when you went shopping," he said and he dug further into my hamstring, trying to release this very tight and protective muscle. "What are you doing this weekend?"

Oh. He was asking me about my day not like my wonderful hairdresser who likes to chat with his clients.  Evan wanted to know what I did to figure out how badly I had abused/ignored my knee, and how badly I might abuse/ignore it over the upcoming weekend. Was I going to go hiking? Biking? Running errands? Or was my plan to be a couch potato and watch Netflix all weekend? His purpose was to assess my past and gauge my future activity levels. Perhaps part of his questions were social, but the main part of his job it to get my knee in good enough shape for surgery. He might need to be a detective to figure out why I am or am not making progress.

* Nordstrom's was very nice when I was looking for professional clothes for my campaign. I had a personal shopper help me select clothes and another woman in the handbag section helped me pick out a briefcase. In both cases, I needed the help picking things out and the level of service wasn't a luxury, but a necessity.  That might sound silly, but I was overwhelmed when I saw a hundred handbags to choose from. The handbag saleswoman helped me narrow it down significantly.