Glen or Glenda?

So my cast is off! AND my weight bearing status has changed from "non weightbearing" to "it's complicated" Woohoo! party. My leg has been in there for over 2 months and I can barely recognize it as my own leg. It's really strange. I put both my legs next to eachother and it looked like one was mine and one was Josh's.

But whose is whose?

I have a lot of body hangups but I was really proud of my shotputter legs. The only muscle on my body...well now it's just shotputter leg. It's gonna take a lot of stairs to get my leg back to it's muscley baby lifting self.

The massive change (other than the masses of hair) is my ankle. I have some pretty gnarly scars and I seem to no longer have lumps where ankle lumps should be. It looks like I have cankles but I assure you I don't have cankles on my leg without metal. My husband has affectionately named it my mankle. Here I present: The Frankenfoot!

*Gasp* *Swoon* *Vomit*

So I'd been waiting 2 months to see how my leg is looking, I had hyped myself up and it was sort of an anti-climax. Yeah it looks gruesome, like so ugly that if I lived in the 1940's and wasn't already married I'd never find a husband. Don't get me wrong, the scars are great, but I'm a bit disappointed because it's TOTALLY different. My foot is thinner, my ankles don't look like ankles, the skin is flaking to the point of causing pain, and my foot has hair on it! Like a hobbit! I've never had hairy feet and now I have just the one!

Anyway, I'm sure it will be more muscley and less hairy soon. (Josh is hoping it will be less hairy soon) and when that gets back to normal maybe I won't mind the mankle. And I can always use the scars as a cautionary tale; Arrested Development style.

And THAT's why you don't leave toys lying around!

So it' time to say goodbye to my warm wrapped up leg, goodbye to mystery, goodbye to people drawing on my leg...well apart from this one guy at hospital...

My mum thinks it looks like a Penis.

Now it's time to say hello to a slow and painful recovery, especially now the doctors have taken me off the good drugs. The Penises.

Saturday Night Treats!!

I don't know if I've mentioned this recently but I have a poorly leg. Just in case you were wondering why I've posted a picture of my legs...that's why. Also, it's hard to see in this picture, when I took this picture my left leg was pretty swollen, the toes were about twice the size of my good leg, and one shade down from my bright red cast. (The 4th in a series of casts with a disappointing lack of dinosaur print)

I probably should have made sure my feet were next to eachother.

So, to cheer my up for my enormous foot, insane amounts of pain, and...well, just because it was Saturday, Josh bought some mad stuff for Saturday Night Treats.

That's right, that is a milk carton full of red juice.

I should probably explain what Saturday Night Treats is. We watch an old episode of Saturday Night Live and usually buy 1 type of treat to have with it. Recently we've been getting more and more treats to make up for the fact I can't have wine with my codeine. So we get a ton of sugar and get silly.

We find our limit last night. We had way too much sugar and we're agreed that the most we can handle is 1 type of sugary drink and 2 types of sickly food stuff. I'm still coming down from my sugar high. Even when we'd consumed so much sugar our sexy tum tums were making not so sexy noises, and our mouths were dry from only having sugar in them for as long as they could remember we kept right on eating. And drinking.

We were determined to get silly. So silly we got! A particular high point was finding an owl in with the strawbs. I was so freaking excited I started hooting like an owl. Then I started looking for a mouse to hunt and eat but with limited movement it meant looking around the sofa bed an giving up.

The owl didn't even taste of strawberries. I couldn't tell if it was raspberry or cola.

We rounded off the evening by watching various comedy shows and complaining about our full bellies. I also made triangles out or our wrappers and Josh tried to make them say words. As you can see I was much better at my job than he was at his.

What does that even say? oOor? Str?

Join us next time on Tales of the Mundane.