I’m not a cute little piggy, anymore.

I’ve cheerfully borne Lisa’s weight since she took her first toddling steps. As she grew up, she learned to jump, skip, and run. During her teen years, she went through a dancing phase. Thank God she wasn’t ever good enough to take her ballet lessons to the Dark Side: “toe shoes.” (Shudder.) I didn’t mind those jazz shoes … they looked kind of cool, and didn’t pinch me too much.

As an adult, I’ve spent time standing, walking, pivoting, and running. I didn’t mind the years she spent doing yoga – that was more about balance than fast motion. I’m good at balance. You tell me to grip the ground and I will do it for days.

I’ve minced in high heels and shuffled in slippers. I stride in black boots and run in athletic shoes. I get to come out in warm weather. I got my first pedicure just a couple of years ago!

She has stubbed me more times than I can count. A few years ago she even broke one of my smaller colleagues during a run on the beach, when her little boy plowed into her. Man, that hurt like a [expletive deleted]. But my colleague did not require special treatment to repair himself.

When she decided to take up tae kwon do last year, I was leery. Especially when I saw the way she threw herself into it, like she was 20, instead of … MUCH OLDER.

“Take it easy,” I cautioned her. “Okay, you can kick really high. Good for you. But there’s no need to fling me into the air so recklessly.”

She didn’t listen. She was drunk on endorphins. Several months ago, she wrenched one of the smaller Lefty colleagues. “See?” I warned. He turned a furious purple, but wasn’t badly injured.

“Who are you trying to impress?” I asked. “Your tae kwon do instructor is always pleased with you … he won’t mind if you dial it down a notch. You have to be careful of that squishy floor mat.”

Last night she was the only one at class. Lots of people on vacation. Her tae kwon do instructor had her punching the bag, then kicking it. YES. We love kicking the bag, as long as she does it right. It’s very satisfying. Then he taught her the next series of moves she needed to memorize for her belt test.

She was getting tired.

“Okay, good job, slow down a little,” I advised. “Wait … I’m caught on the mat … OW! Oh, &*$#!!!! I’m not supposed to roll under like that! Oh, ^%*+&!!!! Did you hear that popping sound?”

Even the instructor heard it. “Do you want to ice that?” he asked, worried.

She said no, and finished the class.

What a dumbass.

By the time she got home, I was twice the size of Big Lefty and turning colors. Her husband got her the ice pack and some arnica gel. Did you guys know how awesome arnica gel is? It helps with swelling like MAGIC.

She felt bad enough; I didn’t have the heart to berate her. She was already thinking she might have to give up tae kwon do. Heck, maybe she should. I would prefer to go back to yoga, or non-impact swimming.

I hurt so much that even the sheet lying on top of me last night kinda hurt. This morning her husband took her to the doctor, where she eventually got an x-ray.

Yep, I’m broken. There’s a little crack in my bone, and she’s going to be wearing a rigid blue shoe-thingie for the next four weeks while I heal. Attractive.






Sorry I didn't have time to freshen my paint job.

And sorry if you weren't in the mood to meet a FOOT today.

This is just how we roll.