More Than You Ever Wanted to Know About My Ankles

Let's over-share, shall we? Perfect.

This is what I want to tell you: I have cankles. And not really even lowercase cankles, but more like CANKLES! All caps. With an exclamation point.

It all started on the boat.

You see, I can find the humor in having cankles now because it's not a permanent thing for me. I've actually, on occasion, taken pride in the fact that my ankles are appropriately sized. Here they are on the 4th of July.

I mean, if that's not an appropriately sized ankle, then I don't know what is. And now that I've said that I'm sure the canks will be here to stay. Great.

I think I noticed the cankle after the day in Belize, which would also be the day I noticed the heat rash on my legs. DOUBLE WHAMMY. It started out as just the Left Guy.

That heat rash + cankle combo is super sexy, no?

But there was nothing I could do, really. I was standing around at shows all night, every night. Perhaps drinking more Diet Pepsi than water didn't help, but that's a minor detail. Left Guy was just another roomie in our teeny, tiny cabin and Right Guy came and went. Plus, it made for some good laughs when we checked in on the status of the canks every night.

The thing is, I got off the boat on Friday and here it is Tuesday night and I'm hopped up on Benadryl and have my feet propped up on three pillows as I type this.

I have CANKLES! Still. And possibly worse than when I was on the boat.

I'm sure six hours at Disneyworld + six hours standing at a concert immediately after + plus a night of zero sleep + nine hours in an airplane + unloading a moving truck + two nights of unpacking boxes hasn't helped, but that doesn't change the fact that you can't tell where my calf stops and my foot begins.

Yesterday at work I noticed that every time I got out of my chair my feet felt like they were being pinched. By lunch I realized that the tops of my feet were puffed up over the top of my shoes. When I took my shoe off, there was a dent in my foot.

Guys, I wish I was kidding right now.

Clearly this needed to be shared. So, after a meeting I, with no other explanation, lifted up my pantleg and showed my co-workers my foot. This was the immediate response I got:

OH MY GOSH, YOU SPRAINED YOUR ANKLE!

Nope. Not a sprain. Just a gold star cankle, my friend. And when I lifted my other pantleg and they saw that Right Guy was nearly as big? Minds. Blown.

While I always love anything I can get a good story out of, I'm definitely over the CANKLES! Keep your fingers crossed that my ankle bones reappear tomorrow.