Want to get somewhere but don’t want to have to do any pesky walking? Then a Segway might be for you.

I first remember wanting to ride a Segway after watching Paul Blart: Mall Cop–one of my all-time favourite movies and I’m woman enough to admit it. It wasn’t because he looked cool, hip, sic, or any other amazing adjectives. It was because you could get places without having to walk.

No, I am not lazy. But, maybe kind of apathetic. Lazy implies I don’t do anything (which is what the kids believe and yet they still manage to have clean clothes, food, dentist appointments, and rarely have to walk themselves). I do plenty. But if I can get away with doing anything without moving around too much right now, I’d choose that over walking 5K. You see, if you turn an ankle at the 2.5K mark, you’re fucked. Or break a bone, more fucked. How do you break a bone walking you ask? You will find out soon.

I never thought I would have to worry about being injured so much but have discovered that fifty is the year I earn the privilege of frequent doctor’s appointments, mysterious ailments that appear when I wake up, and nagging injuries that should have healed but are much happier plaguing me every moment of the day. So, I play on the side of caution.

A recent example occurred when I was participating in old-lady water aerobics at a resort on holiday. It was supposed to be light exercise, fun, something you can do while wearing sunglasses and a bikini having already had my first all-inclusive cocktail. It was a lot of fun, mostly because our instructor had an eight pack which allowed me to use my mind while counting reps and abs at the same time–bonus. Then I felt a twinge. Just a little reminder from my elbow that, “Hey, that’s your drinking arm, don’t overdo it when there are lots of free drinks still on tap.” But it was just a twinge, so I powered on counting eight more, seven more, six more, where was I? That’s right, second from the bottom on the left.

The twinge persisted through the holiday, and I babied it for a few weeks until I finally saw someone who did the tests and found the tear. That’s right young bucks, I tore the tendons in my elbow during, I repeat, old-lady water aerobics at a resort on holiday.

I likely did the damage because I was trying not to re-injure the other arm because eight weeks earlier I had tripped and fallen walking (can you see where this is going?) and dislocated and broke a finger. The doctors say it is a six to twelve-month healing process for that joint because my body is an asshole. So, during old-lady water aerobics at a resort on holiday, I aided my movement with the other arm as a protector when I felt the twinge.

So, I Segway. Less harm can be done if I just don’t walk, go on holiday, or try anything designed for old-ladies except wear support hose (renamed as Spanx to make them cooler). It is a step up from scooters, but, clearly, a gateway vehicle to the inevitable and I can live with that.

My Turning 50 Like a Boss Tip: Sometimes your mind thinks you’re twenty when you’re fifty. Don’t believe everything that crazy bitch says.

Check out the video: Scootin’




Kristine Laco shares the stories we all have with a splash of sarcasm, a pinch of bitch and a ton of wine at Adulting In Progress dot com. Her middle finger is her favourite and she lives by the motto that if you are not yelling at your kids, you are not spending enough time with them. She takes selfies at the gyno. Taco Tuesday is her gospel. Reality TV is real folks. She is making turning 50 a job because she doesn't have one.

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