Pediculous

Dear Seth MacFarlane,

I thoroughly enjoy Family Guy in ways you can’t even imagine.  Take the episode with Bill Clinton.  When he and Peter become the best of friends and usual Peter Griffin shenanigans ensue.  At one point Bill is at a cankle contest.  Everyone I know laughs at this part.  How funny a bunch of really big cartoon women bouncing around showing off their cankles.

Well… I’m here to inform you that while I may be a fat ass sorta in body and definitely in spirit, I’m not nearly as big as cankles are associated with and I have them.  And here’s another newsflash to break another common misconception… when God has a sense of humor and decides to stunt your growth there’s nothing you can do about it.  No amount of running, squating, pointing or flexing will fix a genetic predisposition to canklage. So someone tell all the fashion gurus out there to stop photographing people’s feet with comments like “ooh she better do something about them cankles.”  Not everyone was blessed with an actual ankle like you… bitch.

I am slowly coming to grips with this reality though it is hard.  All these heffas with ankles can actually walk properly.  Or better yet are not automatically lumped in with the obese.  Guys can have them too and you don’t have to be plus plus sized!  While I’m all about admissions, my wrists also cankle as well and I have no shoulders.  Let’s make a joke about how I’ll never be America’s Next Top Model by throwing every season in my face shall we?  …but I can kick your ass so how’s that for balance?

It’s as if the angel or whatever being that was building me before I was thought of was too preoccupied and knocked over the ankle and wrist button… and the torso and shoulder, forehead and eyebrow button too.  Come to think of it… who’s big idea was this?  If it weren’t for my bright sunny and vain disposition I would be a bit more of the basketcase I already am.  And then God decided to let me continue this way as if to say “she’ll be a great source of my amusement.”  Thank you God.

I bring this up because on top of having no ankle area whatsoever, I am rather flat footed.  If there is an arch in my foot I couldn’t pick it out of a line up.  Try being four and wondering why you’re constantly being yelled at for your pointe in ballet.  Yeah thanks for the traumatic experience crazy French bunhead lady, I can’t change how genetically challenged I seemed to turn out and I hope all your years of pointe gave you calluses… take that!  But yes I am rather flat footed.  With little fat flat hobbit feet minus the ugly hair.  If feet were meant to be attractive that’d be my Achilles’ heel.  My feet did not evolve with time.  I think the same angel grabbed the pro-Magnum box and stuck them on my legs and wondered why there was such a mismatch but because he/she wasn’t paying attention didn’t think to change it.

I’m pretty sure I have the lower body of a caveman.  Not these Wilma Flintstone cute little pixie toes.  Hell no.

Except it definitely looks like Wilma got the cankles… so maybe that got that right.  But feet the way cavewomen really had them.  Fat, flat and compact.  The type of feet and leg action where flip flops are the only shoes that honestly and genuinely fit.  Trying on boots is nothing but a good laugh for God and anklets look at your cankles and think “ha… you’re jokin right?”

But it’s because of this lower body issue that I discovered a new joke from God.  Osteoarthritis.  Something is going on with my knees and ankles and part of it apparently has to do with the fact that there’s no arch in my foot which isn’t aligning my knees properly.  In other words- that whole part above about me being the butt of celestial punchlines.

So now even if I didn’t want to I have no choice but to completely change the way I eat and shed any excess weight that may bother my knee.  Why?  Why is it that morbidly obese people who sound like something outta Friday the 13th can walk around like it’s nothing.  But I am maybe ten additional pounds over where they say my weight should be and I can’t walk?

Maybe I’ve figured it out.  It’s interesting how openly I embrace my inner fatty.  Perhaps I was really built to be a fat person and because the angel got it mixed up and put the fat person on the inside and the not so fat person on the exterior I got issues.  That makes so much sense.  Eureka!

I can cure syphilis now.