And now some inner monologue.
I think people think I'm kidding or just being a jerk when I use those motorized courtesy rascal like wheel chairs they have at department stores and grocery stores.
I broke my Tibia and Fibula bones in my right leg back in August and through some luck and sheer will of bad assery I got a metal rod placed in there and now can walk. Okay more hobble, but I can get around.
Anyway, sometimes said leg starts to bother me quite a bit (especially when the weathers cold) so I opt for some mechanical help. But every time I go to pick one of these rascally things, and probably because I walk up to them and look like I'm just playing, I get stares of anger.
I call them 'Anger Stares'.
(the people pictured are fictional, any likeness to real persons is coincidental...except for the last one...then it's also sad)
I continue to get these anger stares throughout the store whilst doing my shopping simply because it isn't outwardly obvious that I'm of the genus of human known as 'injured', or evolved like a Pokemon into 'old'.
You'd only need to see me walk to get a hint of something being amiss...or have x-ray vision.
So okay I guess I can understand all the stares to an extent. I wear pants most of the time so you can't see my scars, and even if I wore shorts or a skirt the most obvious scar on my knee is usally covered (I'm a lady) and the scars on my ankle are teeny tiny so again, don't give off the signal that I belong in the motor chair that beeps when I back up.
Perhaps, the biggest reason for the angry stairs is the fact that I let my little sister stand on the rascal behind me while we zoom down the isles and make reving noises while doing so.
(another unfinished mis-saved picture I didn't want to redraw. Enjoy!)
I'll be sad when I really shouldn't use these anymore. *sniff
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