Friday, June 29, 2012

Certain Opinions on Gatorade

Physio  is going allright.  But they're onto me vis a vis the gatorade. 
            I loathe gatorade.  And powerade, and all the other permutations of the stuff.  Whatever flavor you try, it tastes like liquid metallic orange sick.  And it does really yuchy things to your teeth.
            However, the consultant physician in charge of the physical rehabilitation department at the Clinica Alemana is obsessed with the stuff. I'm under instructions to drink an entire bottle before I arrive, and to drink at least one more during the session and to refill constantly as I go.
            When I arrive and they ask me "did you drink before you came?" I nod and lie pleasantly through my teeth.  I'm all for keeping rehydrated, but there's no fun in doing floor exercises with a liter and a half of water sloshing around your tummy.  The stomach crunches turn out strange.
            As it goes, I conveniently 'forget' to bring gatorade once a week, on average, and putter along very happily with sensible amounts of plain water. But last Friday, after a muscle spasm at the end of the session that they attributed directly to a lack of gatorade in my system, they told me about gatorade powders that you can buy and keep as reserve in the pantry.
            "Buy some, Tabubilgirl!  Today!"
            So this morning when I was heading out to my session and realized I'd forgotten to put gatorade on the shopping list again, I grabbed an old packet of Australian rehydration salts, dumped it into a water bottle and sailed out of the house.
            At physio I proudly waved my bottle of cloudy-colored water at Soledad (my very own physical therapist) and sang out that I'd taken up her suggestion and was trying out the powders -
            "Isn't that NICE." She said sweetly - and pinned me to a floor mat with a laser glare.
            "And now you know what you can do?  You can bring a box in here and keep it in the closet for when you forget!!!!!  Isn't THAT nice?!?!"

Sigh. That's called being Busted.

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