Shoulda listened to the doctor when she said "No Heavy Lifting."

Unfortunately, her definition of "heavy lifting" and mine differ. Apparently they differ substantially.

Before anybody panics, no, I did not herniate through my incisions (near as I can tell). I didn't tear anything or pull anything loose; I just did a little too much yesterday. Specifically, I went grocery shopping.

See, I shop at this place where the sackers are paranoiacally careful about how they bag up your food. I did *not* take my nice reusable bags with me, specifically to avoid the sort of weight that can be put in those bags. So I got umpteen bazillion bags of groceries, some with one package of rolls or one carton of eggs in them.

Also see, I do twenty-pound bicep curls on a fairly regular basis--sixty of 'em at a time. Plus, I lift more weight than I really want to talk about with my back and legs. I figured that I'd be golden for lifting umpteen bazillion very light bags of groceries. After all, I can straight-arm a 17-pound bag of dog food with no problem, right? Right.

Loading a dozen one- and two-pound bags of groceries into the car and then unloading them into the house undid me. I had actual pain for the first time since day two post-surgery: a feeling like I'd been repeatedly punched in the right side of my gut. I can still tell that it's there, though it's not actually hurting this morning.

I cannot freaking believe that *groceries* did me in. I mean, yeah, if I had been doing hot naked unassisted power ultimate yoga, or running miles at a time, or trying my usual lifting workout, I could see that there would be a problem. And I understand that the belly muscles are connected to the everything-else muscles. But, really: groceries? Rotisserie-seasoned, deli-thin-sliced chicken breast? Eggs? A carton of milk?

The deep frustrated grumbling you hear is me.