[photo courtesy OpenSkyMedia]
Dear Right Ankle,
I know we haven't always had the best relationship ever since that time I attempted to take ice skating lessons and the teacher basically told me not to bother. My friend's dad had to lace up my skates every time because my tiny, 8-year-old hands could not pull the laces tight enough to support your weaknesses.
But we powered through together, through the time I fell when I was showing my mom a dance I made up, through the time when I bit it on my rollerblades on André's street and was worried his crazy mom would come outside and see me writhing in pain on the ground, through the time when I ran too fast backstage and got a killer bruise. And I really thought we were doing ok.
So why you gotta waste my flavor by getting sprained after I did absolutely nothing sprain-worthy? I told a whole crowd of people that I sprained you in a bear fight because it sounded cooler than the truth, which is that I was literally turning around. You made a liar ou=t of me, Right Ankle.* But I'm still gonna be nice to you and wear that splint thing that looks like it's from the Civil War, and I hope this helps re-solidify our friendship.
The left one would never do this to me.
*not true...I was a liar long before this happened.