It’s Time for the Skeltons to Come Out of the Closet by Jennifer Weiss

I am doing my dead level best to keep these dry bones walking around despite previous fractures of my anterior rib number seven, fifth metatarsal, first metatarsophalangeal and first interphalangeal bones. I may not remember the names of the three posterior ribs I broke falling from a horse as a ten-year-old, but I know they were true ribs.

I pound calcium, vitamin D and miles of pavement, jump up and down, do overhead and dead lifts, farmer’s carries, the rowing machine, shoulder presses and push-ups, and every Wednesday, I ingest a bone density medication with warnings up the wazoo. 

On Monday afternoons, you’ll find me line dancing at the senior center with dozens of women and a handful of men ranging from their mid-fifties well into their eighties. I have been an “Absolute Beginner” for the past two years, and as a recovering perfectionist and someone who still has nightmares about being picked last for teams in PE, I am chill with staying at this level for the rest of my life. The primary goal of the class is to improve balance and reduce the risk of falls. This is paramount because if I fall, there will be a major “Humpty Dumpty” problem, and it will take more than all of King Charles’ horses and all of his men to put me back together again.

On Tuesdays, five skinny boomer women and I take an exercise class with a young coach who exhorts us to lift heavier weights and cites a study from Australia to convince us we are building bone. The other gym members read the “Osteopenia and Osteoporosis Bone Strengthening Class” sign beside the door of our warm-up room and peek inside like we are some rare species of gazelle or egret. In the gym, older men glare at us when we take too long on the equipment. We chat amongst ourselves and share bone density scores like pre-adolescents confiding when they got their first periods. The most annoying among us brag that they don’t need to take meds or repeat the class because they have just a touch of osteopenia.

Bone bullying is ubiquitous. Last year, “Dr. Wonderful,” a precocious male orthopedist who specializes in back surgery and misogyny, pointed to my hazy back x-ray:

What happened to your spine? It’s not supposed to look like that!  
I saw 4 older ladies with broken hips on call last weekend.
Mortality rates increase dramatically after hip fractures! You should be on medicine.

I have every confidence that tennis ace Dr. Wonderful is married to an emaciated beauty (after all, “the sweeter the meat, the closer to the bone,”) he met in college who supported him during med school, bore, rears and tolerates his three entitled children, and scoops up after the family labradoodle. And I surmise that Mrs. Wonderful will, after menopause, age into a boneless chicken like me … But wait, maybe he’ll trade her in like a used BMW when she experiences her first hot flash and be married to slender wife number two or skinny wife number three by the time ex-wife number one is osteoporotic. #Stickwitherotic  #Dumposteoporotic

One classmate’s doctor informed her that she doesn’t need another DEXA scan of her hips and spine because she has already outlived her life expectancy. #Toooldtotrynottodie

Endocrinologists woo us at our first appointments, assure us there is no problem taking the meds. At follow-up visits for numbness, acid reflux and leg cramps, they suggest we go on a different drug (replete with black box warnings we read about on our own), ask why we are reluctant to try the new medicine, and then minimize our concerns about the risks of starting, taking, and stopping it. #Gooffthisdrugandshatter

After fifteen years of resisting my general practitioner’s and my gynecologist’s advice to go on medicine, I waited three months for an appointment with an endocrinologist and was prescribed a bisphosphonate. At my next periodontal visit, the hygienist and dentist told me that I should not be taking bone density medicine. They said osteopenia and osteoporosis are conditions invented by drug companies and if I need to have future dental work, I will be at risk of developing necrosis of the jaw, a gruesome condition that’s virtually incurable. 

There’s no need to take those drugs. You just need to exercise, they preached.

When I asked what type of exercise they did, they self-confidently replied that they walk and swim (which I did religiously for more than three decades while my bones were cracking, breaking and fading away).

Recently, a dear friend, who is recovering from her second broken hip in three years, e-mailed me the link to a website detailing how unnecessary and dangerous it is to take bone strengthening meds. She has a healer in Mexico who is hooking her up with just the right mix of supplements to strengthen her bones. My husband joked that I may not want to take medical advice from her. I have yet to e-mail her back.

I bully myself, too, wondering if I had just not dieted as a teenager, if I had just not been lactose intolerant, if I had just taken calcium and Vitamin D when I was younger, if I had just gone on the pill, if I had just weaned my babies a little sooner, if I had just been prescribed estrogen during menopause, if I had just…just…just, maybe I would have healthier bones.

But enough of that. It’s time to have lunch and gulp down prodigious quantities of calcium and vitamin D. My next DEXA scan is four months away. And if I’m going to fulfill my fantasy of putting endocrinologists and orthopedists out of business, I had better lace up my sneakers and head to the gym. 

Jennifer Weiss authored the poetry chapbook, How Should We Dress to Spread Ash? (Finishing Line Press, 2026) and was awarded the 2022 NC State Poetry Prize. Her poems appear in the North Carolina Literary Review, Kakalak and The Main Street Rag. She is passionate about childhood literacy. Jenniferweisspoetry.com.