I have no doubt that you lovingly crafted and maintained a List of All June’s Ailments, so I know you’ll recall the plantar fasciitis of 2012. I remember the year because that’s the year I started dating Ned, and I was consumed with looking cute so he’d like me back. And no one looks cuter than Limpadoo Limpado, with her limp. “Won’t you have the relations with me? Here’s my hot Quasimodo impresh.”
So then I had to spend $100 on these MaryJanes that looked like I was teaching pottery at the Learning Annex.
No. Wait. You know what? The hard-soled MaryJane purchase was from the great broken toe debacle of 2017 or ’18.
The point is, I have plantar fasciitis again. And it’s hard to spell, which literally adds insult to injury. I think I got it because I was trying to walk a lot more to shed the 9,000 pounds I gained in my solitary don’t-get-the-plague year. I can’t even remember what I did about it those 9 years ago, when Lily was young and I wore heels to make Ned desire me. I think I got a shot in my heel.
SHOT IN THE HEEL, AND YOU’RE TO BLAME.
Ding DANG it I’m annoyed. This is why I should just sit around. Maybe find one of those men who are into chubby women.
In other news, no one will stop bugging me. Every sentence I write you, another notification pops up on my text or email. No wonder my heel hurts—OH MY GOD THERE GOES ANOTHER NOTIFICATION. I liked life better before we all got computers. Back when computers were this giant lit-up thing in a room somewhere like NASA.
Anyway, the stress is going to my heel. I suppose I could look at, like, cures for plantar fasciitis, or why is plantar fasciitis so ridiculous to spell, but I am pressed for time.
I have to go. I have a meeting I have to attend, and whenever I “go” to a meeting secretly looking bad, I fear they’ll say, “Let’s all turn our cameras on today!” and everyone will see me in my NC State t-shirt and tormentor on Princess Bride hair.
I went to see The Princess Bride at my old movie theater last night. I went with Ned, and I no longer care if he thinks I’m cute or not, so that’s a relief. Anyway, during the torture scene, I asked, “Does my hair look like that?”
“No,” said Ned, who wouldn’t tell me if it did.
Then during the scene with Carol Kane, I asked, “Does my hair look like that?”
“You want some M&Ms or something?” asked Ned, who I think wanted to change the subject because it so does. Now that it’s light, I so have Carol Kane in Princess Bride hair.
OK, I really have to go. Heel advice, please. And don’t tell me to use a prong collar.