Like I don't have enough to worry about?

So as not to appear a completely inept cyclist I didn't mention that last Friday, on Ride your Bike to Work Day, I totally fell over. On my bike. Like, tipped over and couldn't catch myself. Like, sprawled on the ground in the middle of the part of town where I work and where there are always a good number of pedestrians. Some of whom rushed over to help me. Which wasn't embarrassing at all. No. Not in the slightest.

And as a result of this incident, I had a pretty black and blue bruise on my shin, just above the ankle, that was about the size of an apple. Which of course made my entire calf and ankle swell up about three times their normal size. Fun times.

I showed the boy, and he was horrified. With good reason. Inexplicably, the boy is none too fond of that part of my body even when it's not grotesquely swollen.

Once upon a time when we were going through a book, the question came up, "What is your least favorite [body] part of your partner?"

Sometimes I wonder why the book isn't called "The breakup book."

The boy had to answer this question first. I braced myself and went through the list of every single insecurity that I have. (The List that is catalogued and cross referenced alphabetically in my mind...as it is in the minds of all women, gents. Don't let us fool you.) Let's see... My ass is huge, and I carry weight in my thighs, so they're none too pretty either. My arms are flabby, I have no neck... the list goes on and on. I was ready for anything the boy said.

Until he said, "Your ankles."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Well, it's just that....see.....my grandmother really doesn't have ankles either. I just don't like that."

"You're saying that I have CANKLES?!" This was said at a pitch that I'm pretty sure all the dogs in the neighborhood could hear.

"What are cankles?" The boy asked blankly.

"Um, when there is no ankle. So your calf goes right into your foot."

The boy began to giggle, "Oh. Yeah. That's what you have."

"WHAT?!" Again with the high pitch.

This was NOT on my List of Insecurities. In fact, I think it's the only body part that escaped even an honorable mention on The List. (Which is no small feat.) But one mention from the boy pointed out a whole new thing that I had never ever thought to worry about in my life. Which meant that I had to review every part of The List to see if there was anything ELSE that I had missed. Which is unacceptable because, seriously, who has time to review a list that they've been compiling since they were approximately 13 years old?

The thing is, in my unbiased opinion (which is deeply rooted real facts and actual observations,) I don't have cankles. My ankles are not the most slender ankles on the planet, but they are most definitely there and distinguishable from my calf. However, the boy is a bit more, um, dainty than I am [please see Bulldog/Cheetah comparison] and I guess he's used to seeing smaller joints. Whatev. I don't have cankles. And I pointed this out to him repeatedly until I'm pretty sure he just agreed with me to shut me the hell up. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's the entire reason why the boy hates the book with a passion. He thinks it's evil.

Which brings me back to today. And the fact that since I have one ankle swollen to about three times its normal size, I actually DO have one cankle and one pretty slender ankle by comparison. And so I'm all, "SEE?! This is what a REAL cankle would look like."

And in response I get a weary, "You're right, Emily."

Darn tootin' I am. Motion to add "cankles" to The List - DENIED.