I turns out I'm perfect at something. I'm perfect at having poor posture. Not only do my shoulders round forward -- likely the result of typing on the computer all the time -- but my back sways pretty good, my stomach pushes out, and I look a few inches shorter than I really am. I'm a pro at this stuff and am making no great progress at actually standing up as erect as I can. Old habits die hard.

The physical therapist who is treating my radiation-damaged muscles is the one who noticed my tendencies and she keeps sending me home with tips and techniques for straightening up. I'm trying -- not as often as I should, I will admit -- and I hope one day to actually measure at the 5 foot, 7 inches I report as my height. All I need to do is practice this posture exercise, a new one she gave me today -- it involves a blue band thrown over a closed door and me pulling it towards my body with locked elbows and hands turned outward -- and everything else she's mentioned over the course of our last four sessions together.

One more therapy session remains. Then I'll be on my own, armed with the knowledge to become perfect at something new: Standing tall.