Friday, June 5, 2009

Dear Right Ankle,

[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 Andr
é'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.