October 22nd 2:47pm - Cankles

My first middle school crush didn't know my name. He called me Cankles.
After a pre-pubescent heart-to-heart with God, by seventh grade He had upgraded my life from Fat Kid to Soccer Player. However, He forgot to thin out my ankles. I have the ankle definition of a four-hundred-pound woman. In my youth people called me Klump Foot.

The German girl and I lay on our bed, talking with our legs in the air. She glanced at my ankles and wailed like a flying rhinoceros had shit on her head.
"Your ankles! So swollen! You must be bit or bruised or kicked or hurt."
"Oh no no, that's just my ankles. They're always like that," I replied, giggling like I had just skimmed a classified ad that read, "Illiterate? Write today for free help."
"No, ankles aren't like that. Too big!" German said.
Twelve minutes later I finally convinced her that I had monkey breasts and elephantitis ankles. As an apology for potentially offending me, she bought me a silver anklet. It didn't fit around my ankle.
She said she was as embarrassed as the time she was in the U.S., walked into a hair salon, and asked for a shampoo and a blow job.

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