Wait in vein

A tenuous pun for the title but it was either that or 'You're so vein' which made even less sense. The last 24 hours have felt a little revelatory. I have realised that I was on the receiving end of a cruel vein conspiracy. Everyone on the planet seems to have known that crossing one's legs increases the chance of varicosity. Even those who don't believe the connection are still aware of the theory's existence. Apparently, I am one of the few individuals left in the developed world who was blithely crossing my knees willy nilly, blissfully ignorant of the pressure that was building up above my calves. Laura at work was astonished I hadn't known this nugget until now. Even - and I consider this a monumental betrayal - even my own mother knew but had, for some cruel reason, never chosen to pass on her pearls of wisdom. Sure, she'll ask me if I'll be warm enough every single time I leave the house, even in the peak of the British 'summer' week; sure, she'll phone me up at work and ask if she can open my post in case it's something important - but when it comes to life-altering information regarding the very blood coursing through my veins, that's considered too irrelevant to share. Pah.

I'm not sure if any of you, the Faithful, have tried to give up crossing your legs. When it comes to challenges, I'd rank it up there light years above quitting nail biting and a fraction below going cold turkey after a five year crack binge. It's an automatic reaction for me, following the 'sitting down' movement as naturally as sweet follows savoury. I never realised the depths of my passion for leg crossing until it was forbidden - now, just an instant of knee over knee action is a sensation akin to a deep massage or a glass of white wine after a long day at work. Still, the thought of the lumpiness that I might avoid or lessen is enough to keep me on the straight and narrow.

The mystery for me, however, is that if everyone knows, why do they persist to cross? Surely the threat of the varicose far outweighs the joy of the cross? Or perhaps, like me so recently, they aren't yet aware. I might start handing out informative leaflets to the crossers I meet on my travels, just so that they can cross with awareness. I feel like I've been in the dark all these years and now I must become some sort of itinerant evangelist and share this potential joy with the masses. I will be the modern St Paul, and this blog will be the equivalent of the first epistle to the Corinthians. St Paul and I aren't too similar, it must be admitted, but we share a fondness for telling people what to do and (admittedly for different reasons) neither of us are too big on spiritual gifts. That said, unlike Paul, I've got no problem with people marrying because I'm not too big on the imminence of the parousia. Ah, it's all flooding back... Right, bedtime.