What NOT to do when your ankle is fractured

All kinds of fun things, not limited to but definitely definitely meant to include NOT wearing these:

And yet, there they are. On my feet. A clear breach in protocol, sanity and common sense. But then, hey. If I spent all of my time catering to common sense, I’d never have any stories to tell.

These shoes are, how do zey say, zo byoo-ti-full. So saucy. I cannot resist them. “Hello, Jenny,” they murmur to me from their pedestal in the closet, “come play with us, Jenny.”

And my ankle really is doing much better. It’s been several weeks, I can wear sneakers again and even went on a little jog the other day. Besides, when going out, generally you drive to the destination, park and trot inside. Sit sit sit, trot back to the car and sit some more and then mosey back inside. Wearing those shoes was definitely a judgement fail, but in the grand scheme of things, it didn’t seem that stupid.

This particular night turned out slightly different. There was so much going on downtown, I know, let’s do it all! But gosh, how will we pack it all in? I will tell you, we’ll score the mother of all parking spaces and radiate outwards from there, in ever increasing circles…on foot. I did very well up until around midnight. At midnight, we discovered that the keys were no longer with the relevant party and must have been left elsewhere. So a death march ensued, covering all known stopping points. A blister with the same approximate square footage as an Idaho potato sprang up on my left foot and, wanting to be included in the fun, the heel of my right foot was rubbed raw. And there was some time spent lost in the ghetto during which I heard, from the middle of a throng of thugs, a woman’s voice shout out: Girrrrrrl!

The thug sea parted and a woman wearing impossibly high neon stilts that were caught up in a battle between orange and chartreuse tottered over and asked me what size shoe I wore. “Girrrrrrl, me too! You can wear a pair of shoes, look at you and your bad self, you go girl!” I told her to “go”, too, we talked shoe shop for a minute and I finally pranced off, somewhat buoyed from the fear of being lost in gangland by having my shoes complimented (again, not sensible, but there it is).

Eventually found the keys, reunited with the car and was able to sit again. Now I can’t wear any shoes at all until the feet recover.

It was worth it.

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One thought on “What NOT to do when your ankle is fractured

  1. […] have to get creative to warm up the scale. Normally, I don’t care enough to get creative, but the super fun ankle fracture coincided perfectly with a lengthy bout of riotous living. Unable to exercise, it didn’t take […]

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