Precerpt from Grandma's Ninja Training Diary: Standing Tall When the World Wants You to Shrink
I’ve never been tall. Officially, I’m short enough to qualify as a “little person.” But I refuse to do the old‑lady bend‑over. Everywhere I go, I see women my age folding forward — shoulders rounding, necks jutting, spines curving like question marks. It’s not vanity that makes me fight it; it’s survival. Posture is the architecture of independence. Lose it, and everything else starts to collapse. I’ve never had perfect posture. My natural stance leans toward “functional slouch.” But I make myself stand tall. I pull my shoulders back, lift my chest, and imagine a string from the crown of my head to the ceiling. Sometimes I catch my reflection in a glass door and check: am I straight? If not, I pull harder. It’s a small act of defiance — a daily correction against gravity and time. I do wall angels and wall sits. They hurt a little, but they remind my body what “upright” feels like. I lie flat for glute bridges and sit‑ups, even though lying absolutely flat is harder now. My spine...