I'm on my way back to blog. I wish I had newer knees, or at least knees that didn't have so many problems. 'Course, if you're going to have new knees, I think that you should be able to get new legs to go with.
Just think, you could be taller or shorter. Or pick out some legs that make you look good wearing shorts or, for that matter, if I had those good looking legs and everyone was looking at them. Then the Isle of Belly would not be noticed all that much. (Yep, still got it.) You could have legs for dancing or running or have some macho legs with all kinds of hair on them. Or, legs that are hairless and look like you wear nylons all the time.
Plus, you could have them new knees with dimples or with out dimples. Or knobby, like we all had at one time in our youth. I can remember when I could kneel down on my knees for about 30 minutes at a time. Now, if I see anyone on their knees, I cringe and grit my teeth. And to watch kids drop to their knees, I have to stuff a rag or pillow in my mouth to keep from screaming. I even get a little queasy to the Isle of Belly.
Yep, I'm stuck with these old knees. But then I think of all the miles and running and jumping and bike riding and dancing and everything else that these knees have done and been through. They have been banged up, bruised, and abused. And they still carry me along. Maybe, not as fast as they used too. And they get tired faster. But they keep on carrying me along.