Yesterday I was weed eating and stepped in a hole in the backyard. I had to drop the weed eater and myself to the ground. I’ve never heard one of my body parts make such a loud popping noise. I laid on my back for a little while and then gingerly moved my ankle. No piercing pains of bone clawing its way out of my skin. First sigh of relief. I laid on my back for a little while longer. Then I stood up. Second sigh of relief.
As an intelligent person, I went on and did all the other chores I felt like doing and then came in the house and took off my shoe. You should see the bruise on my ankle. You should see how fat the ankle is. Has a doctor seen it? No. I Google doctored myself and am now rocking a very sexy look:
It’s hard to tell how freaking huge my ankle is while I have on the compression bandage, but believe me it is quite a look otherwise. At least I can walk a bit better now. I think the rest of the afternoon calls for me to be on the couch reading and changing out the cold packs.