Breaking News From My 40-Year-Old Body:

Guys.

I have freaking golfer’s elbow.

I don’t golf.

I have never spent a sunny afternoon wandering around a course discussing birdies, bogeys, or whatever golf people talk about.

Yet somehow my body has decided I am apparently training for the PGA Tour.

Tonight I discovered that giving a thumbs up hurts.

Giving a thumbs down also hurts.

So apparently I can neither approve nor disapprove of anything anymore.

However…

I am pleased to report that flipping people off remains completely pain-free.

My middle finger is operating at peak performance.

I can also throw up a peace sign with no issues, so I guess my body has decided I can only communicate through passive aggression and good vibes.

I have only been 40 for TWO MONTHS.

Two.

Months.

How is it possible that I’ve already collected enough injuries to qualify for my own medical punch card?

At this rate, by Christmas I’ll be explaining things like:

“Oh that’s not a limp. That’s my decorative hip.”

“No, I can’t turn my neck that way anymore.”

“I slept wrong three weeks ago and my shoulder has never forgiven me.”

I used to get injured doing exciting things.

Now I get injured existing.

I reached for a coffee cup last week and my body reacted like I’d attempted an Olympic weightlifting competition.

The most offensive part is that nobody warns you about these injuries.

As a kid, adults tell you about taxes.

Nobody says, “One day you’ll wake up and your elbow will identify as a golfer despite having absolutely no golf-related experience.”

Anyway, if anyone needs me, I’ll be over here aggressively not golfing while icing my golfer’s elbow and preserving the one athletic movement my body still fully supports:

🖕🏻

Thank you for attending this medical update