I carefully turned a page of a black-covered paperback of a classic fiction by a best-selling author named Dean Koontz. Actually, this is my first time to read a craft of his because I am not really fond of reading books that would send chills to my spine. I am more into the genre of espionage, action, mystery, thriller, and sometimes, romance.
My writing an entry this very moment is not really about the book but the pain I feel in my back that I'm currently experiencing while reading the book, hoping it is not osteoporosis or things closer to that. Geez. I'm too young for this my-back-hurt-alot drama of a seventy year old.
I wonder if it's the price of getting older. I wonder if a twenyish guy like me who had lost his teen years very recently would actually have osteoporosis on a very sudden basis. Perhaps, it is the result of no longer having a sport, or doing something that would break a sweat every afternoon. I gave a pause to my daily exercise routine, two months ago when I experienced a series of headache, fever, and backpain scenarios.
Not until a while ago that I realized I have to jog once more, adding up the Vitamin A and the wide array of legs running in the oval that I would actually get for free. Yeah, I like going to the oval once more. Seeing all the Sillimanian legs and faces and curves out there.
I might consider the faces, and the legs, and the curves of those chicks as a primary cure for my backache. P.S. I AM NOT A PERVERT.
