Let me just say now that the looking-at-the-speaker-and-making-positive-noises has never backfired on me. Until now.
|This is EXACTLY how I look when someone tells me I can't run the half marathon.|
On Saturday, Deidre texted me: Bill wants you to stop over so he can fit you with an insert.
Me: ? Um, ok? (Now I'm thinking, what insert?)
Then it hit me. I had accidentally solicited free medical advice because I was pretending I heard what he said. I felt awful.
Me: OMG. I totally did not realize what Bill was saying at the concert; I was just pretending I did. I would NEVER ask someone to take care of me outside his/her practice. I was only going to ask him to fit me for a new foot. I. AM. SO. SORRY.
Deidre: (Basically) Whatever. Come over.
Bill gave me an insert for my running shoes, and he explained that it was just as good as the boot, but without stabilizing the ankle (which I do not need). He said that I would either feel no pain in two days, or it wouldn't change anything (in which case he could still fit me with a new foot).
That night I chaperoned the Homecoming dance. I was wearing a beautiful black dress. . . with my running shoes. Later I found out that a student came into school on Monday laughing about the "dumb girl in a dress and running shoes." I appreciate that he called me a girl, but I am NOT DUMB. Anyway, I felt awful at the end of the night, but that may have been the twerking that I can NOT UNSEE NO MATTER HOW HARD I CONCENTRATE ON CUTE PUPPIES AND SUNFLOWERS.
Sunday was a recovery day, and Monday was back to school, so when Deidre texted me to ask me how I felt, I truthfully said I felt the same, but now I was too scared to take out the insert before my doctor's appointment. Tuesday was crazy-busy, but ten minutes before bedtime, I realized that my foot hadn't hurt ALL DAY.
I think the next time I see Bill, I am going to kiss him on the mouth.