A Sitting Meditation

My ass is happy. Fat, sassy, and happy. I have a new home office chair--gray in affect, adjustable in all kinds of ways, and supportive just where I need it. Recently, while writing an article on office ergonomics, I quickly realized that my home office was poorly lacking in a setup that would benefit my body's "natural alignment." Not surprising, given that I was spending hours sitting on a wooden, straight-back chair with a pillow. It was one of my two "boyfriend chairs" I had held onto after finally getting my own place. Years ago I found solace in painting chairs with interesting shapes after major breakups. "George" was actually a wonderful man, just not for me, and I had kept his chair around, frankly because it was well-made. After years of finding it perfectly adequate for nightly bouts at the computer, I was now spending hours sitting in this chair, working on creating a new livelihood for myself. It was sure to cause problems--and it did. After a long stretch of writing in early summer, I finished up with a sore back and the first major flare of IC (interstitial cystitis--a chronic bladder condition) I'd had in years.

Between my knee issue from a ski fall (thankfully needing just a bit of rest--duh), IC flare, and constant rain, June proved to be a fairly sedentary month, leaving me fatter and a bit glum. Unemployed, fat, out of shape, and floundering in a variety of personal ways, I needed to do something. So far, I've managed to raise my level of fitness from "middle-aged broad" to "moderately in-shape middle-aged broad." But the chair remained, and so did my back issues. So I went to Ikea (Ikea, Ikea, Ikea!) The name always sounds like the shreik of some Cretaceous bird to me.

How does one explain the draw of this place? As you approach, it's a BIG BLUE BOX with yellow lettering. Why is this reassuring? There is something about the blue. Blue like the navy, blue like the sky on a perfect day, let's face it, it's the perfect blue PMS number 294. Oddly, I always that find my pulse quickens as I get nearer, to the point that I feel anxious about whether I will find parking. Has anyone ever NOT found parking at an Ikea? Especially on a Wednesday at noon? They make sure you will get in, just as they make sure that you will find something you want to buy. And I did--find parking and something to buy. But first, lunch. Yes, instead of my usual virtuous salad I got the damn meatballs with lingonberry jam and mashed potatoes and gravy. And I really enjoyed it with a Diet Pepsi. Diet be damned. Then it was on to the Rilly Big Shew.

The arrows, the smell of pine, the yellow bags, the rooms advertising how easily you can live in 192 sq. ft, 420 sg. ft. 570 sg. ft. (my place looks MUCH larger than what they show!) and so on. The numerous combinations of just the right wall color, wood design, cabinetry, throw pillow, lighting, rug, or printed screening make you feel so sure you can find new inspiration, new style, new LIFE just by shopping there. And it's all so god-damned smart--from the design, to the marketing, to the price, to the way you put it together when you get home. I know editors and designers who could take lessons in how to write and illustrate simple instructions from Ikea! You feel like you are most virtuous and smart by shopping there. But you are also exhausted from traveling three floors and every take on home needs ever invented. Because you have to look at EVERYTHING. Just in case you missed the really cool XXX or X on floor XX.

What pleased me no end however is that I found my chair! I sat in the red chair, the leather chair, the flowered chair (which I greatly preferred, but which was not so comfortable and that was the point, right?). After sitting for about 30 minutes I finally settled on the gray flannel chair. Relief flooded my body. I had found what I came for, now I just needed to get out without further damage. One hour later, I loaded my car and headed home. Escape is never easy, but I had done it. To the tune of about $200. Ikea Ikea Ikea!