Not 16 anymore!

A week ago today I was at soccer practice and decided that I should show them how brilliant I am at soccer. At the end of practice we had a scrimmage and we were one player short. So it didn’t take much asking for me to join in. I did really well. I had scored two goals and was pretty confident that I had impressed my team. So all of the sudden here comes a pass straight for me and I do some fancy foot work and when I go to turn my foot stays in one place an my leg goes in another. When I look down my foot is literally dangling from my leg. So I hurry and step down and pop it back into place. There was a lot of popping and grinding. I went to start running and went straight for the ground. My first instinct was to puke but I was surrounded by ten guys. So I just sat on the grass and told them to give me a minute. Well, when I wasn’t getting up they started to come over to check on me. Granted there is a huge language barrier between us but by the look on their faces and the tone of their voices it wasn’t looking good for my ankle. I finally let my self lay on my back so that I didn’t pass out when one of them decided to grab my foot and hold it up. I thought that was nice that he was trying to elevate it for me so I could relax. Next thing you know he is yanking the s*@t out of my foot and ankle. I start telling him to stop (Still trying to remain calm and impress the guys). Then all of them start pushing on my ankle and saying Murado (purple in Spanish). Yes. Thank you guys I know, I know it is purple. I asked one of them to go and get some ice to put on my ankle. What seemed like 10 minutes later he came back with the ice. They start telling me that I need to go home boil some water, put salt in the water , stick my foot in it and cover it with a towel. I’m sure I had a puzzled look on my face because one of the guys was shaking his head and mouthing the words “just use ice”. I manage to get to my car and they chose our youngest team member who is 17 to drive me home. On the drive home he proceeded to tell me that his dad doesn’t really trust him to drive. So there I am with an incompetent driver and an ankle that now has a purple tennis ball on it. I get home, Jarrod comes out to get me (I’m still being brave) and helps me into the house. As soon as the front door closes I start screaming and crying. Now I get to wear a lovely brace for three weeks and I have an ugly foot. I normally have pretty cute feet. My right foot is now the size of two feet.