Why I Did Not Become a Professional Gymnast

Today, I met a friend for lunch. I was fearful of getting lost in the skyway (though I am getting much better at navigating, it still occasionally happens), so I decided to just walk outside for a minute to get to the restaurant. I was waiting on the curb for the light to change, and I looked pretty cute, if I do say so myself. I actually wore a skirt today, a cute sweater, and high heels. The light changed, and I attempted to step out into the street. My heel got stuck in a crack, and my body lunged forward, while my leg stayed firmly in place behind me. I landed on the street in quite an awkward position. Of course, only about 100 people saw. I tried to stand back up and pretend like I was fine, but I couldn't get up. After what seemed like a minute but was really only about 2 seconds, I was able to get up and hobble across the street. I showed up for lunch not looking quite as cute. My ankle is still killing me, but I don't think it has swollen yet. I keep looking at it to see if it looks ok, and I keep thinking it is gross and mis-shapen. But then I look at my other ankle, and it looks the same.