If my body had its own WhatsApp group…

My body parts now operate like exhausted government employees counting the days to retirement. I have an idea that my body parts have started their own WhatsApp group behind my back, my 84-year-old mother said, grimacing. I was shocked at this statement, of course. She, however, was deeply offended, mostly because she wasn’t included in the group. She told me that she was sure her right knee accidentally connected to the Bluetooth speaker in her new car and a notification from her lower back came through, saying: “Morning everyone. We survived those stairs, but barely.” Naturally, she asked my son, an IT fundi, to investigate. He found no such thing, of course, and had to make up a white lie about a new ad for knee replacements doing the round on radio stations. Then I wondered what my own body would talk about in a WhatsApp group. I have an idea that my group would be called “Internal Complaints Department”, and members on this group would be knees, lower back, bladder, eyes, neck, sciatic nerve and, for some reason, my one big toe, who would contribute absolutely nothing useful, but be an irritation to the rest of the body. My knees would huff: “Can somebody explain why she still bends down like she’s 25?” while trying to get my body upright again without the help of a kind neighbour. Lower back whenever I try to lift something heavy: “LOL.” Just that. Passive aggressive, I’d say. Bladder: “Reminder – we now wake her up every two hours. Stay focused, team.” True story. Eyes: “I need glasses to find my glasses…” Also true. My neck would be especially dramatic. “Today we move left only. Right turns have been cancelled due to technical issues.” The worst member by far would be the sciatic nerve. It would randomly drop messages at 2am that read: “Fire down left leg.” My one big toe would then start throbbing for no reason at all. In my 30s, my body parts worked independently. There was optimism. Team spirit. Hope. Now, they operate like exhausted government employees counting the days to retirement. If I ever attempted a light jog again, the WhatsApp group would explode within seconds. My knees would call for an emergency meeting, my lungs would start an inquiry into who authorised this madness, my heart would complain that walking was better and my lower back would contact HR immediately. Quite frankly, I’m just grateful these groups don’t really exist. My waistline would definitely lay a big fat egg there…