I shuffled into work this morning, slightly late. Mainly because I spent twenty minutes trying to adjust this silly leg brace that I am to wear for a week. A WEEK.

Normally, when I am injured, I get tired of it after about, oh, one day. So, if I DID go to the doctor, I promptly stop following his instructions. And if I didn't, than I return to being my normal klutzy idiotic self. Since my injuries were covered my workman's comp, I must follow all stupid doctor instructions.

Which means wearing this silly brace for a week.

Yesterday, I wore jeans and a blazer to work. My reasoning was that I, seriously, could not fit any other pants of the silly brace. Not wanting to DRAW ATTENTION to my injury, it worked out nicely. Everyone simply thought I was a half-drunken fool shuffling through our office. But, today, I was tired of jeans. So I wore a very classically me outfit. Knee length skirt, pearls, hair up, etc. And some stable high heels. Nothing that will send me sliding on my butt down the hallway.

The catch being, I had to wear this silly little leg brace over my hose and carefully manuver it around the ankle strap of my high heel. All very difficult and time consuming.

When I walked into work, they (being the gaggle of women commonly referred to as my co-workers) were gathered in a tight little bunch, drinking coffee and swapping gossip. Upon my arrival, a hush fell over the crowd and they burst into a sort of combustion of laughter. (Terrifying, I assure you. I was hoping flames might accompany the laughter combustion.)

They then made such remarks about how only I would do something like that, only I would make a leg brace look stylish and only I would STILL BE WEARING HEELS.



Is there something gravely wrong with me? I thought it was a normal human condition to try, or at least want, to look better than the limping dead.