Cast as fashion accessory

Everywhere I go: “Oh, what happened?” “Doctor thinks it might be a stress fracture.” “Really? How?” And I get to tell the story, over and over again. I hate the look I see on people’s faces when I mention the running, as though it’s putting a black mark against the activity. I want to protest: “Running didn’t do this; I did this, by not being cautious enough. It’s not the running; it’s the intensity, which was my fault!” And then I get another wave of guilt.

So I’m trying to head off telling the story at the pass by taking the focus off my leg. Not sure that a cute skirt and sweater will do it, though. Truthfully, outside of a huge, feathered flapper gown, I’m not sure there is a fashion choice available to me that would keep people from noticing the cast. Injuries are like that; they draw the eye like a magnet does iron files. Little kids yell, “What’s wrong with that lady?” It’s human nature to be morbidly curious. I don’t resent the interest, just the script that follows. Maybe I’ll just start lying, saying I stubbed my toes or something. Not as though I haven’t done that before.

Funny story, though: on vacation, I was hobbling on crutches, with my foot bound and my hands taped against blisters. A little girl at the hotel asked me what I did to my foot, and she nodded seriously as I told her. Then she pointed to my hand and asked about that. Then she pointed to my other hand and asked about it, as though the answer would be different. She shook her head after that and said, “Maybe you should go see a doctor sometime.”

I would so love to get out of the house today, but lugging my foot around wears me out quickly. Both boys have small headcolds, so I’d like to see them get some rest and recover before school starts; right now, though, they’re shrieking loudly and jubilantly over a game of Mario Kart, using up what scratchy voice Gabe has. I may have to be Evil Mommy and enforce rest time for both of them this afternoon. I’ve already gone head-to-head with Sam today over cleaning up a train track before moving on to other activities, but it went as well as could be hoped; I managed to hold my temper, and after the tears were dried, he apologized for being grumpy with me. Those successes are what helps the next time.