I’m broken.

17 Mar

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I’m so ashamed. Humiliated even. This is what happens when you get older, you become more fragile, and your ability to heal slows like time approaching a black hole.

Friday I took a small trip coming into my office. Nothing serious, I didn’t go flying face first into a fine china display. I just stumbled, a little. I caught myself with my other foot, looked around to make sure nobody saw, then attempted a clean get away from the scene of the shame.

But with my first step I knew something was off. I looked around, made sure nobody was around, then removed my shoe, then put it back on. That’s like hitting reset, or blowing on you Nintendo game, it should’ve worked. But lo! Saturday morning when I went to work out it still seemed tight. I’d forgotten my stumble by that point and figured I needed to stretch more.

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About half way through my work out (which rarely involved my feet so I hadn’t noticed the pain) I noticed what looked like one of those quarter machine bouncing balls under my skin. I didn’t recall cutting myself open to place a bouncy ball in my toe, so the only possibility was…ALIEN ABDUCTION!

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Well, that or the humiliating possibility that I tripped, in public, even worse, at work, and broke my toe. There’s something inherently embarrassing about sustaining a visible injury at your own fault. I feel like this is the kind of thing that happens to grandparents, I’m not as young as I used to be, but I’m no grandma–unless my alien abduction theory holds some truth, in which case for all I know I’m like a great-great-great-gran. Which would be awesome because I’d turn my alien spawn into an army and take over the world.

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