I am not a skinny person by any stretch of the wildest imagination. I was bordering on skinny way back in my youth, when I was blessed with a body that could eat food at an alarming rate but not once add any extra pounds to my slender physique.
“You’ll explode one day if you keep eating like that,” I was warned. I didn’t explode, but I did gradually gain weight. Everywhere. Apart from my ankles and my wrists. My ankles and wrists have remained small.
These days I like to call myself curvaceous and pretend that I’m not really bothered about attaining a supermodel figure. Besides, I enjoy eating too much to deprive myself of one of life's pleasures. I’m not saying I’m unhealthy, I regularly eat vegetables and fruit and a balanced diet, but I do eat rather large portions and I refuse to stop eating cheese and chocolate and other such delicacies. So as a result of good food and a slower metabolism, I am not a skinny person, apart from those ankles and wrists.
However, last week was a completely different story. Last week it was impossible to see where my ankles stopped and my legs began. Last week my feet resembled the feet of a morbidly obese elephant. The reason? Pesky pond life at my photography club.
There we were, grey skies above, not ideal photography weather but that didn’t stop us from heading to the local pond searching for the perfect picture. There were ducks and swans and pretty pink flowers. And teenagers on bikes looking at us as if we’d escaped from the local zoo.
I was wearing black leggings underneath my black dress with my brown shoes. Had I realised we would be outside I would have dressed appropriately. I would have worn jeans and socks and covered those (skinny) ankles.
I crouched down to capture the swan and his elegant white neck. There were reeds and pond like things growing by the waters edge. And a rusty coke can added to the scene. Gnats circulated the air above me, and was it my imagination but could I feel the pesky pond life feeding on my ankles and making me itch?
It was not my imagination. The next day my ankles disappeared. My feet and ankles ballooned to very unattractive and startling sizes. My feet were covered in itchy lumps. And the next day after that, the bruises errupted. I looked a sight. It was also very uncomfortable.
I hobbled to the chemist, slightly concerned that my feet were pumped full of deadly poison and I may have to be rushed into hospital for life threatening surgery. (You can’t help worrying sometimes, can you?) The lady at the chemist assured me I would live and it was nothing to fret about. I was given cream and tablets and reassured I would be okay.
You’ll be pleased to know that I have nearly recovered from my ordeal. My feet and ankles are nearly back to normal. My ankles are practically back to their old skinny selves, and thankfully we have been reunited once again.
Dear ankles, it’s good to have you back.
Before I was bitten.
Taken whilst being bitten.
After I was bitten.