Built to last: What a dodgy knee taught me in Scotland
Somewhere between Edinburgh Airport and a set of stairs I had no business descending with a suitcase, I had a reckoning with my body. Specifically, with the part of me who thinks pain is just the price of doing business. Her name is Patty Pusher, and she and I are currently in negotiations.
In This Episode
• Why so many of us experience our bodies as the enemy — and where that actually comes from
• What objectification theory has to do with the way you feel in your own skin
• The moment a set of stairs and a suitcase named Gertrude forced a real reckoning
• Meet Patty Pusher: the alter ego who pushes past every limit — and the new motto that’s keeping her in check
• A laughter toolbox tool for when things go sideways: how to find the funny and then find the opportunity
• The Fort William Bus Driver story — which involves wrong directions, a cryptic warning, a near-mugging, and a Jamie Fraser sighting
Episode Highlights with Timestamps
[00:10] — Introduction: solo travel, week one, and a question worth asking
[00:36] — “I have been at war with my body” — Marla opens up about a lifetime of pushing too hard
[01:25] — Eating disorders, injuries, and the cost of not listening to your body
[02:40] — Objectification theory: why we experience our bodies as something we watch, not something we live in
[03:28] — Social media, impossible standards, and being between a rock and a hard place
[05:46] — Gertrude, 25 stairs, and a knee that said absolutely not
[07:32] — Meet Patty Pusher: the alter ego with a motto that would make a physiotherapist weep
[08:19] — The new motto: built to last, not to trash
[09:21] — The Laughter Lounge opens: shout-outs, feedback, and the Fort William bus driver story
[9:55] — Laughter toolbox tool: how to find the funny when things go wrong
[10:44] — The Fort William bus driver story begins (brace yourself)
[14:54] — Finding the opportunity: what a disastrous bus ride gave Marla instead
[15:07] — Jamie Fraser’s grandson. That is all.
Links and Resources Mentioned
Objectification theory — Marla references this concept in passing; no specific source cited in episode
Outlander by Diana Gabaldon — referenced for the Jamie Fraser moment
marlasimlett.com — episode page, newsletter signup
Laughter Revolution Digest — newsletter, subscribe at marlasimlett.com
Let’s connect
If any of this landed for you — the body stuff, the Patty Pusher stuff, or finding yourself going in the wrong direction – I’d love to hear from you. Reach out at [email protected] or find me on Instagram and Facebook.
And if you haven’t yet, hit subscribe on your podcast platform so you never miss an episode.
You can also join the Laughter Revolution Digest by clicking the subscribe button on my homepage, here at marlasimlett.com. It’s where I share the stories that don’t quite make it into the podcast, plus pics of trip sights and things that make me laugh!
Full transcript
Hey, everybody. Welcome to the Laughter Revolution. I’m your host, Marla Simlett, and this is a podcast built on the premise that while life can be hard, getting through it doesn’t always have to be. Because laughter. I am in the first week of my six-month solo travel journey, and you might be wondering, “Marla, what the heck are you learning and laughing about on your travels?”
Let me tell you.
I want to start by saying that I’m 59 years old, and I can honestly say that for most of my life, I have been at war with my body. Anyone out there relate to that? Hands up. Yeah, quite a few of you.
So what that looks like for me is that I’ve always thought I was fat. My belly sticks out. It should be flat. I have always pushed my body beyond what it can do, and beyond what it should do in some cases. And I don’t listen. I haven’t listened to my body, so when it gives me signs and signals that I’ve done too much, I just keep on going. I push through it. Because who knows best — my body or me?
As a result, I have had a lot of injuries that haven’t been able to repair properly because I haven’t rested. I’ve pushed through. I’ve had years of on-and-off dieting. I’ve had an eating disorder. I dealt with bulimia for a number of years. All of these things not only weren’t helping my body do what it naturally wanted to do — which was to find a balance — but actively harmed it. In some cases, to the point of permanent injury, permanent disability, and disrepair. Disease, really. And I think about this and wonder, what the heck is up with that?
Why do we feel as though our bodies are the enemy? Why do we feel like our bodies are something so externally focused rather than this home that we live in — that we need to honour and look after and treat like it’s precious? Because it is. And anyone who’s had their health threatened knows how precious our bodies are, and how precious our health is.
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about that over the last few years, as I’ve been trying to get more into that spirit being rather than human doing, and trying to listen to my body more. I’ve been doing some research and reading about what they call objectification theory. The idea is that, while this research was around women, it increasingly relates to men as well. In our society, we are taught that our bodies are an objectification of an external view. So it isn’t this home that we live in, that we experience from the inside out. It’s like we are experiencing our bodies as if it’s a photograph — something external to us that we’re watching.
And of course, this is exacerbated by the media. Social media has set it on fire. I was lucky as a youngster and a young adult — I only had to worry about magazines and TV to show me what I was supposed to look like and what my body was supposed to be able to do.
Now, with social media, it is just insane, because a lot of the time those images aren’t even real. They aren’t even something that can happen, and yet those are the messages we get from the media — and then from people who have also internalized those messages. And it’s like we’re between a rock and a hard place. We see what we’re supposed to look like and what we’re supposed to be able to do, and we can never measure up.
And so we take that frustration and stress and disappointment out on our bodies. From a therapeutic perspective — because I’m a counsellor as well — I know from my practice and from my own experience that there’s also the big-T and little-t traumas that many of us have experienced. Our bodies become a safe place for us to hold and express anger and grief and those traumas, and to take them out on ourselves.
Somebody the other day — I was in a class, and somebody was talking about how kids take things out on their parents, and the teacher said, “Yeah, that’s because it’s a safe place to do it.” I think the same goes for our bodies. Our bodies are a safe target for our anger and frustration, because it means we don’t have to put it out on other people and deal with their response.
So there we are. We’ve got these bodies that should be precious and looked after, and we don’t look after them very well. Or I don’t, and haven’t looked after mine very well. And that came up full in my face during this first week of my trip. Here’s how I’m trying to get unstuck.
The Story: Gertrude and the Stairs
First day of my trip. I get off the airplane in Scotland — in Edinburgh — and I am determined to take the tram to my accommodation. It’s a quick, easy, cheap tram ride, and then I can walk to where I’m staying. So I get on the tram with Gertrude, my little carry-on suitcase, as some of you may remember from past episodes.
We get off at the tram stop and I’m feeling good. And then I look. Twenty-five stairs down to the street I need to get to. I look at Gertrude and say, “Gertrude, are we doing this?” She was non-committal, so I had to take matters into my own hands. I picked her up and we started down the stairs.
Halfway down, my knee gave a scream unlike anything I’ve felt from it before. I had to stop, give it a shake, rub it out a little bit, and then hobble down to the bottom of the steps and hobble my way to my accommodation. As I sat there with an ice pack on my knee — lucky they had something in the freezer — it came to me: “Marla, if you are not looking after your body, this is going to be a long and onerous trip. If you can’t carry Gertrude and your backpack around, if you can’t walk as much as you’d like to walk to see the sights, to do the hiking, you are not going to have the experiences you need. You may have to actually go home. So you need to pull it together, my friend.”
And at that point, I realized it wasn’t just me that needed to pull it together.
Well, it was me. But it was also this alter ego part of me who pushes and pushes and pushes. And so I named her Patty Pusher, which I think is pretty apropos. Patty Pusher has a motto that goes even beyond “no pain, no gain.” Hers is: “Push it until you crumble.” Which I’ve done several times. Which is why I have arm injuries, hip injuries, sore feet.
I realized that Patty and I were going to have to come to an agreement. We were not going to push beyond what my body is able to do, because I want to enjoy this trip. So Patty and I sat down and decided — she was a little bit reluctant, but I think I’m bringing her on board — that we were going to have a new motto.
It was no longer going to be “push it until you crumble.” Our new motto was going to be: built to last, not to trash. And that’s what I’m keeping in mind. Every time Patty tells me I should walk further because I need to get to the end of this trail, or that I shouldn’t be sitting inside when I’m tired, I say, “Patty. Built to last, not to trash.”
We have a little giggle about that, and I’m able to move on and be a bit more honouring of my body — letting go of some of those coulda, shoulda, woulda messages she’s been feeding me. That’s my learning so far, and I’m doing not too bad a job of nursing the injuries I have. My knee’s feeling better — thanks for asking. And I’m hoping I can keep up that conversation with Patty as we go.
The Laughter Lounge
I’m going to move into the Laughter Lounge now. First, I want to say that I’ve had some great feedback on the podcast. A couple of people have reached out to tell me how much they’re learning and enjoying using breathing and giggling as a way to get through those first moments of being stuck in whatever they’re stuck in.
A call-out to Roxie and Mary for that feedback — I really appreciate it. I hope everyone else is getting something from this too.
Now I want to tell you what has become my favourite story so far on my trip. This is the Fort William bus driver story.
Dun, dun, dun.
I want to premise this by saying that one of the tools I use in my laughter toolbox is this: when something’s going badly or isn’t going the way I want it to, I think about how I could exaggerate this story. If this were a movie, how would they play it up to make it as funny as possible? Once you get into that mode, you’re looking for the funny. You’re looking for the ways this is going to be a great story to tell later.
In the Fort William bus driver story, I don’t even have to exaggerate it — because it was just funny anyway.
The Fort William Bus Driver Story
Picture this. I take the train from Edinburgh to Fort William, get off, and there’s a line of taxis. But once again, Marla is going to take public transit and save herself some money. My host has assured me it’s a 10-minute bus ride up the hill, and I’ll get off right beside my accommodation. So I ask around, find the bus stop, confirm, and the bus is coming.
I get on and tell the bus driver where I’m going, tap my little card, and sit down. And I’m feeling pretty proud. Like, I am doing it. I am out here getting around and navigating the world, and with Gertrude by my side, what could go wrong?
So 10 minutes turned into 20, and I thought, “Huh, this is taking longer than I expected.” I pulled out my phone and opened Google Maps. We were going in the wrong direction. Way far in the wrong direction. What the…?
At the next stop, I went up and talked to the bus driver. I was trying to show him on my phone, but my internet was cutting out. So I tried to tell him: “I told you I was going to Banff Crescent.” He had no idea where Banff Crescent was. He thought I said something else. Apparently, my Canadian accent is indecipherable in Scotland. It took about five minutes. He actually had to stop the bus while we figured it out on my phone and then on his phone. He said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Let me look after it.” I sat back down.
Twenty more minutes go by and we stop. He says, “Last stop,” and everybody gets off. I said, “But not me, because I have to go to Banff Crescent.” He said, “Oh, no. You need to get off. Go across the road and wait for the next bus. It’ll be about 15 minutes.”
Right about then, my bladder just screamed in protest. I really should have gone when I got off the train. That’s another story.
I took Gertrude off the bus, went over to the bus stop, and sat there. About 15 minutes later, a bus came rolling along. Looked like it might be a different number. Pulled up. I walked to the door. It was the same bus driver. And I said, “So just to be clear, your bus is not the one I want to be on.” He said, “Oh, no, no. You want to be on this bus.” So I got on and said, “Why could I not have just stayed on this bus to start with?” And he looked at me and said, quite cryptically, “Where I was going, you couldn’t go.”
So immediately, I’m thinking Scottish mafia. My brother pointed out, as I was regaling him with this story, that it was probably just that he needed to go to the bus depot and use the facilities. Lucky him. Maybe I should have gone with him. But I like the Scottish mafia story better.
So I sit down and we’re driving along. I’m watching my map the whole time to make sure we’re going in the right direction.
And then the final cherry on the sundae: a guy gets on the bus and sits across from me. He looks over and says, “Give me your phone.” Excuse me? “Give me your phone.” Holy crap, am I about to get mugged on a Fort William city bus? “Give me your phone. I’ll find the spot.” That’s my Scottish accent. Apologies to Scots everywhere.
I realized this guy had been on the bus earlier, during my trip away from my destination. He had heard all the kerfuffle, and he was just trying to help me find where I was going. I assured him that the bus driver and I were in cahoots and we knew what we were doing, and thanked him profusely. I have to say, the Scottish people have been absolutely lovely — bus drivers and everyone else — in helping this directionally challenged lady get around.
Anyway, long story coming to an end: I got to my accommodation.
I thanked the bus driver profusely. I was going to invite him for dinner because by that point I felt we had a relationship, but then decided that was maybe a little bit inappropriate.
Oh, best story ever. I’m going to be dining out on that story for years.
The Tool: Find the Opportunity
Here’s one more thing I love to put in the laughter toolbox. When you’re laughing about something, things are good. But I also love to find the opportunities.
When things go awry, if you can look at what opportunity it opened up for you, that can help make things make a little more sense — or at least give them some joy and fun.
In this case — and you should know that I came to Scotland convinced I was going to run into Jamie Fraser of Outlander fame. Now, to be clear, Jamie Fraser is a completely fictional character from Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander books and the subsequent series. But somehow the little one in me was convinced I was going to see him.
While I was waiting at that bus stop for 15 minutes, who was sitting beside me but a young guy who could have been Jamie Fraser’s grandson. He looked that much like the character. To my credit, I did not gush or say anything. I just smiled, nodded knowingly, said “hiya,” and let it go. But I knew in my heart he had been put there just to make my day.
Oh, God bless Fort William and its buses.
Wrapping Up
All right. That’s all I have for you today, other than to say I’m glad you’re here, and I hope you’ll come back to hear about more of my adventures. Please connect with me. Let me know what you’re thinking about, whether you’re using some of these laughter tools from our toolbox, if you have something funny you want to share, or if you have questions you’d like me to address here in the Laughter Lounge.
You can reach me at [email protected]. Connect with me on Instagram or Facebook — I’ve been posting reels and stuff there as well. You can also subscribe to my Laughter Revolution Digest. It comes out every other week, and I’m including news of my adventures as well as some pictures. If you’d like to be on the list, go to marlasimlett.com and hit the subscribe button.
And if you want to follow along with the podcast, don’t forget to hit follow or subscribe on your podcast platform so you never miss an episode.
I’m Marla Simlett. This was Laughter Revolution, and I really appreciate you being here. Until next time — laugh more, be well, become your greatest you. Ta!
