Walking the Plank

My mom has become obsessed with the weirdo fad of planking.

This obsession appeared out of the blue one night.  I was looking at pictures on Facebook and said, "Aww, this is such a cute picture of Sarah."  My mom immediately asked, "Is she planking?"

I explained that I have seen no evidence that any of my friends are into planking.  The cool kids I know don't go out on Saturday afternoons and engage in mad planking hijinks. Planking is one of those weird things I'll never understand that seem to happen in far off places, like the crazy Russian teens who climb gigantic TV towers and do gymnastics on the top of them.  (Warning: that last link will make your toes curl and your stomach turn.)

Wikipedia, my good friend, says that planking is an activity consisting of lying face down in an unusual or incongruous location. The hands must touch the sides of the body and having a photograph of the participant taken and posted on the internet is an integral part of the game.


Two nights ago, my mom called me into her guest bedroom where she was changing my sheets.  "Look!  I'm planking!" she announced, extremely proud of herself.

Being the dream crusher that I am, I mentioned that the whole point of planking seems to be doing it in locations that are unexpected, like the Taj Mahal or the middle of a highway.  Planking on a bed kind of takes away from that element of surprise.  My mother was undeterred.  "I am geriatric planking."


Last night we lost power for forty minutes or so and when the lights came back on, my mom said, "Imagine what you would have done if the lights came on and I was planking on the coffee table."  


I'm starting to worry that she's going to go out and rob people in a flash mob next.