6/18/12

Not Fit for Company

Last Thursday night after tucking my little boy into bed, I came downstairs slipped on the next to last step and landed on my left foot...hard.  I knew instantly I had broken something, the pain was immediate. Being home alone (hubby off at a concert) I decided to do nothing 'til morning. Friday morning the ER doc told me I broke my heel spur. What the heck is a heel spur? Apparently my high arch forces the tendons to strain on the bottom of my foot, pulling on the heal bone over time to create a spur on the bottom of my foot. Lovely.

I'm in a shoe-boot thing that's ugly enough to be called a Birkenstock. (For the record, you would never catch me dead in that fashion nightmare.*) My bikini days by the pool are tainted. Boot-foot tan lines are NOT sexy.  High heels will be out of the question. What the heck am I supposed to wear when I go out? Next weekend I'll be at ALA with happy hour and cocktail party.  I cannot NOT wear heels...it goes against my fashion DNA.  But I don't want to look like an ass in heels and crutches. Hmmm, maybe if I adjust the height of my cructches...?

*Okay, right out of the gate I knew I'd offend someone I loved with my aversion to Birkenstocks. (Sorry Kathryn...and anybody else who wears them.) I love all my friend's feet equally and without judgement, to each their own. I just can't do it.

Needless to say, three days of foot propping and sitting on my butt, I'm over this whole broken heel spur thing.  And I've got a minimum of six more weeks of this crap!  People, I need activity.  A social life! Sunshine!  Between June Gloom (the cloudy haze brought in by the ocean in Southern California) and my inactivity, I'm not fit for company.

I did, however, download some amazing songs on Sunday.  So instead of me spreading my depression all over the blogosphere, I'll talk this week about the one thing that makes me the happiest...music. (Though the first piece I'm sharing tomorrow is a sad song, it's breathtakingly beautiful.)

I hate pity, it makes me feel weak so please pass it on to someone else.  I'll do my best to not be grumpy but don't hold your breath.  Hope everyone else is having a fun-filled summer.  At least I get to work on my MS today.

Happy Monday!

10 comments :

  1. *looks down at comfy Birks on feet, sees the ugliness, embraces the comfort anyway*

    Hippies, man. They know what they're doing. ;)

    No pity for you! Enjoy your music! XO

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  2. Dang it, Kathryn, I knew I was going to offend somebody. You dang hippee! ;) They ARE comfortable. (So I hear.) But I have a serious fashion before comfort infection. Ask my buddy Ara Burkland, when I wore my four inch snakeskin Cole Haan heels in New York City one night. The need from fashion stems from my childhood and my mother making me wear ugly clothes. I'm traumatized.

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  3. Hee hee... not offended. :) I must see these shoes, though.

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  4. Ok then, no pity. Paint some glitter on that bad boy and hobble your way over to ALA! (ps. I wore Birks all through high school and undergrad. I also didn't go on many dates...but man they were comfy!)

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  5. Oh no! I did that once but never went to the doctor. It took forever to heal. Hope you can get some benefit out of your forced inactivity, like lots of reading and writing maybe.

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  6. I wore Birkenstocks WITH SOCKS in high school. And I wonder why I didn't have a boyfriend...

    I'm with Rachel...glitter up that boot!

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  7. Rachel - I just might have to go buy a bedazzler...not joking.

    Karen - Don't tell me it will take FOREVER! Lie to me, tell me I'll be exercising in no time.

    Jessica - what is up with you people and Birkenstocks? You're a gorgeous six foot blond, I can't imagine you didn't have a boyfriend.

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  8. You're so talented artistically. You should paint the boot and start a new fashion trend. Heal quickly.

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  9. You poor thing!!! SO something i would do. It'll happen to me someday. But I usually fall up the stairs. Go fig.

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  10. Nicole - suckage and then some does not even begin to cover this. Ha! And I trip going up or down stairs all the time. I rush too much.

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