Wednesday, October 13, 2010


So there was this one time in college when I used to drink too much. 

OK, let's be real.  All of college I drank too much.  I was a very responsible drunk though; I always made it to class, I got very good grades, and I worked quite a bit as well.  I just liked to have a good time after I was done with work and school. 

I was in a sorority so we had too many date parties to count.  In my four years of school, I'm pretty sure that I only missed one.  I love playing dress up, what can I say?!

The thing about date parties is that if you're under 21, you had to drink enough before hand to last you through the entire night.  This is what got me into some serious trouble.  (Ok, not really serious trouble, like there were no cops involved.  There were a handful of times where I probably should have been kicked out of the when I brought alcohol into our dry house and then that other time when I puked at formal and my date had to go by himself...)

Anyway, my sophomore year we had a date party with another sorority and the theme was salad dressing.  Weird, right?  There were four different kinds of salad dressing that you could choose from: Italian, Ranch, Thousand Island, and French. 

Of course I chose Thousand Island because that meant that I could make a fruit hat and be the chiquita banana lady.  I was going to look awesome. 

SO I got to work on the fruit hat which turned out to be way more time consuming than I originally thought.  Trying to attach plastic fruit to a straw hat with flower wiring is not easy.  After finally getting all of that assembled right before the date party, I figured that the perfect way to finish off the outfit was with a Hawaiian printed sarong.  Hawt.

The infamous fruit hat post fall...
We always had big pre-parties before the actual party and that was no different for this particular date party.  I have no idea what exactly we drank, probably something tropical to go along with the rest of the theme... 

After getting in a sufficient amount of pre-partying in, it was time to load up the school bus to go to the Holiday Inn. 

Once at the Holiday Inn, I made my way off the bus and patiently waited for my friends to go inside.  This is where things start to get a little blurry...on my way inside I missed a few steps and tumbled down a few stairs thus ruining my beautiful fruit hat.  Nevermind that my foot is throbbing; I was more concerned with collecting all of the fruit that fell off so that I could attempt to reattach it for party pics. 

The alcohol that I consumed that night apparently served as a buffer to the pain that was beginning to take place around my ankle.  I danced all night long and I vaguely remember throwing my (c)ankle up on the table that the DJ was using and explaining to him why my foot was turning black and blue.

I went home after the date party and smartfully elevated my foot above my heart for the night.  And probably put some ice on it or something.  I woke up in a LOT of pain the next morning and decided to hobble on over to the campus Dr.'s office.

After convincing the doctor that was on call that Saturday morning that I, in fact, did NOT need a pregnancy test (FYI-this was a standard question that was asked to everyone who went to Lafene (the campus health center)...even if you went in with a cold or a broken foot for that matter), I had an X-ray done on my foot.  Apparently I should have been in a walking boot at the very least, but that would cost I just decided to walk it off.  They said I'd probably be fine trying to walk off my brokenness.  Very smrt.

Eventually the swelling went down, the bruising disappeared and my foot was semi back to normal.  Of course at every chance that I could get I would take off my socks and shoes and show everyone my giant foot.  It was a good conversation starter at parties. 

This isn't the greatest picture but you can at least see all of the bruising that was starting to form that night as well as the swelling around my actual ankle bone. 

My bum foot. (also both of my feet look gargantuan in this picture...I'm blaming this on the freshman 15, weight gain can go to your feet, right?)

Unfortunately with age that little fall is coming back to haunt me; the ankle just doesn't quite work like it used to...damn the luck.  Oh, and also for the record, my feet don't look quite that big anymore and I do not have cankles.


  1. If I remember correctly, that's the date party where Room 11 went as "French" dressing (ie, a good excuse to dress like Moulin-Rouge-esque-french-tramps) and I fell over about halfway down the ATO hill with my date...while I didn't end up with a black and blue ankle, I did get to take home a lovely bit of road-rash on my ass :) Ahh, we were some classy ladies back in the day, weren't we? ;)

  2. Ouch! That looks painful. Foot injuries are the worst. I accidently bent back my baby toe while running barefoot with my dog. Somehow his paw got between my toes. I've never been the same.

    On the other hand it makes a very efficient tornado warning system ;)