|I GOT MY HAIR STRAIGHTENED ON SATURDAY|
Which means two things: My leg is feeling much better ... and it's going to rain all week.
It's been two weeks and two days since our traumatizing hamstring accident in the Bermuda Triangle, and we are finally feeling like ourself again. So much so that, as you can maybe see from that picture up there, Marie got her hair done and went shopping on Saturday. She bought herself a rhinestone-encrusted chain that says "Bad," which couldn't be more age-inappropriate. So you know she's back to normal!
And if you think it's odd that that paragraph was written in the third person, that's because I failed to mention that it was written by my injured leg. That's right. My leg. It's an actual person now. It has a personality and identity and feelings. It hates mopeds. It likes hot water bottles and massages and attention. Lots of attention.
That'll happen when everyone who sees you talks about your leg as if it is a separate entity.
"How's your leg doing today?"
"Here, let me get a blanket for your leg."
"Is your leg comfortable in the backseat there? Should I pull up my seat to give it more room?"
And my personal favourite, the affectionate stroke-pat, as if they're addressing a puppy instead of a lifeless stump.
Friend: *patting leg* "Hey there, how's that leg feeling?"
Me: "Oh, it's happy today. It saw a leg going jogging this morning and it pouted for awhile, but I took it to the mall and bought it a new purse and it cheered right up!"
After a while the attention just went to its head and now I don't even know if I like it anymore. It actually had the nerve to leave me a note last night telling me it didn't really like what I made for dinner and also could I please remember that it wants a pony for its birthday. But that's okay because the better my leg feels, the less attention it gets. Within weeks, people are going to forget that spoiled little stump ever existed!
LEG'S NOTE: And if she thinks I'm giving up this good thing that easily, she is underestimating her own goddamn leg! It would be a shame if she tripped and reinjured it, wouldn't it? A darn shame . . .