Chris’s exact words before he left for the long weekend were: “go easy with the leg. You can go crazy with the weights and sit-ups and whatever else but go easy with the leg.”
So with this in mind today I am busting out of rehab to go to the gym. The real gym, the Fitness First at the shopping centre down the road.
Yep I am a certified gym junkie. And he did say I could go crazy with anything else.
The nurse at the front desk asks Mum and I where we are going.
“Just to Castle Towers,” Mum says.
“To Fitness First,” I add.
“Why did you tell her that,” Mum whispers to me in the elevator with slight concern.
“I don’t want you getting in trouble.”
I explain to her I couldn’t let the nurse think we were just the sort of people that wore gym gear to the shops. I have a reputation to uphold after all.
The girl at the desk at the gym hands me a medical form to fill out.
“Have you hurt your ankle?” She asks casually, eying the crutches.
“No, I’m just missing a leg,” I reply with a grin.
A look of horror crosses her face and a hot rash is spreading up her neck.
“Oh I am so sorry. So sorry,” she says clearly mortified.
I try not to openly laugh.
It is a sea of cardio equipment. Now this is my idea of heaven.
After an hour and three quarters Mum has had enough. I could go on. I feel like the energizer bunny.
Then comes a battle between my pride and my vanity.
I have brought clothes to change into as Mum and I plan to see a movie after our workout but I have forgot to bring a different shoe to wear with my maxi dress.
My options are to look fashionable and go bare foot but in the wheelchair or go on crutches wearing my jogger with my dress and be independent but a dag.
I am torn.
My pride and independence wins and as I am crutching around the shops I have to remind myself people are looking at me because I have one leg and not because I am wearing a jogger with a maxi dress.
And without the wheelchair there is no free tickets or discounts at the movies. Damn.