Coordinated. . . I am not. . .

I hope that wasn't the title to H's post. .. I would feel bad for stealing a title. . .maybe. . . ;)

Anyway. . . I teach Pilates classes. To be specific: I teach Bosu, Jump Board, and the Reformer. I do not teach other forms of Pilates. Last Wednesday, I was teaching a Bosu class and we were about 40 minutes into the class and were doing what I call suicides-running going up and down on the ball. Well instead of being a normal person and using my foot to land, I decided to step down on my ankle. Not a good move. AT ALL. I severely sprained my ankle. And I mean SEVERE.

I'm used to injury. I used to sprain my ankle a lot in junior high. I broke my nose in high school. I sprained my ankle in college. I broke my pinky toe two years ago in April helping a waitress with the door to the patio. I know injury. However, this has been painful. And it has even caused me to think that X-rays would have been a good idea because I might have broken something. However, I can still balance on my ankle without excruciating pain or pain in my nerves, so I know I'm just over worrying.

Today I also realized that crutches suck. They do. If you don't believe, walk on them for a few days. That will teach you to think that crutches are cool. H suggested I get a wheelchair. I'm starting to agree. I would rather walk like a snail than use my crutches anymore. I did though get to use one of those scooter carts at Super WalMart while grocery shopping with my parents. They wanted to go to Sam's Club but since their daughter couldn't walk and Sam's doesn't have motorized carts, they opted for the SWM. The SWM was also closer. So win-win for them. Oh how I wish middle IL had Super Targets. Oh well. I was by far the skinniest and youngest person on the scooter.

Stupid, stupid ankle. The best part of it all is on the day I hurt myself, my mom apparently stepped on our Yorkie and my parents rushed him to the vet because Butch was having problems with one of his legs. It turns out Yorkie's have a tendency to easily dislocate their legs. And that's what happened. When I called my dad to tell him that he definitely needs to get me crutches when I come home because I can't really walk, he tells me that Butch had such a hard time that morning walking as well and barely made it from the bedroom to the family room in front of the heater. Yeah. Poor Butch. I wanted to remind him how he could have easily picked Butch up and carried him but I refrained.

Another bad thing about my ankle is that I could not chase my nephew this weekend. He likes to be chased and we do airplane. When I was showing him what foot was hurt he said "Please let A's foot go back to how it was and be all better. Amen." He did it without being prompted. I looked at my sister and she said "yes, he's quite the prayer!" I then just squeezed him. On Saturday night, he sort of forgot about the injury and wanted me to do airplane. Amazingly enough, I gave it a shot with one foot. I could only do it 4 times though. It's hard on one foot!!!!

Maybe some cute guy will come and wait on me at home. I'd ask Dean but the three times I've talked to him since Wednesday and I mention something about my foot like "Crutches suck" or "driving is kind of difficult" he says "Why? Ohhh that's right. . . your ankle." So I'm thinking, he's not going to remember to come and wait on me. . .