There’s a saying that “scars are tattoos with better stories.” I agree, to a point. See, I’ve got quite a few scars from multiple surgeries—with more to come—so it’s clear to me that some great stories can be improved with a little editing.
That’s why I recently checked in with a tattoo artist and my hip surgeon to see if I can ink up my arthroscopic surgery scars. The answer was yes.
I’m certainly not vain and I don’t hate my scars, I just want them to be more, well, artful. I’m actually quite fond of the five-and-a-half-inch scar that runs diagonally down my bikini line from the Ganz osteotomy I had in 2005. That’s a keeper; it reminds me of my resilience from a surgery that kept me on crutches for half a year. I also like the little scars around my belly button from an emergency surgery. And there’s the subtle timeline along my arms and legs that makes me smile; it traces many playful cat scratches, frying pan foul-ups, and spills on my bike.
I don’t like sitting on my butt. I quit my last job in August in part because it required me to do just that, sometimes for 70 hours a week. While sitting down is a pleasure for most people, it has become increasingly painful for me due to my degenerating hip joint.
My hubby and I rocked out gloriously at the Van Halen concert (complete with David Lee Roth) on Jan. 26 during our Dallas vacay. Eddie Van Halen jumped alongside the still-outrageous Diamond Dave and beamed as he did the duck walk, Chuck Berry–style.
To complement a strict regimen of stretching, massage, exercise, and heat therapy, I picked up the joint-health supplement glucosamine and chondroitin yesterday. For my cat.
What would you do if you saw a semi-haggard woman lying in a pool of her own vomit on a New York City subway platform on a Monday afternoon? … Nothing? Stare with disgust? Shake your head in pity? Walk away in fear? 
My husband sent me an email a week ago that’s been staring me down ever since. He wrote “Virtual Hip Replacement" in the subject line, but what he wrote inside made me pause: "You may not want to see this." There was a link to a website, but I didn’t click on it. I haven’t ignored it, exactly. I’ve just been waiting for the right state of mind.
For years I danced like a snake, a slave, an ocean wave, a warrior, a carnival queen, a dirty old man, whatever character the drums called for in my 
