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I broke my foot. Once again, I have broken my foot and I have no idea how or when I did it. For about three weeks my foot has been in pain, most days I just limp around the house in denial that I need to see a doctor.

Today was the end of that denial.

I woke up and put my feet on the floor to get out of bed and the searing fire that roared up my leg told me I couldn’t ignore the foot any longer. I hobbled around feeding Lola, who was very distressed at my ridiculous attempts to walk. One hour and an x-ray later, I definitely broke my foot. I couldn’t even begin to tell the doctor how I did it.

But you, my dear readers, you will get the real story.

I broke my foot walking. Yep, that’s it. Thanks to my muscular dystrophy I have ridiculously fragile feet that attempt to murder me on an hourly basis. I lift my foot, the toes flop back down, I almost trip and die. Every day, every single day, I give my feet a pep talk about just staying up when I lift them and not dropping back down and trying to trip me… usually resulting in some part of my foot being fractured. But thanks to my form of the disease, drop foot is going to happen no matter how many pep talks are given.

Now I’m wearing a boot.

Not the stylish kind that make fall so much fun, but the kind that announces you are a klutz, incapable of even walking without injury. The worst thing about this is that it’s my driving foot. That means I can drive but I have to take the stupid boot on and off to do so. Seriously, that’s more work than I’ll ever put in to leave the house. Frankly, just the battle to put on jeans overwhelms me on most days.

Pajamas should be an acceptable form of clothing in any situation!

Now I’ll be a hermit for the next week, or three. I don’t know if I’ll really make it that long in the boot since it’s been only two hours and I already want to bust free. But on the bright side, now I won’t cave in and eat Taco Bell.

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Lola and I opened a store so we can sell our funniest blog sayings on cool stuff. Check it out at Shank You Very Much