The story

I knew you would want to know. I just knew it. So, in between my sexy hobbling and super cool ouch faces, I thought I would take some time and tell you the story of how I did a David (yes, I have indeed done a David, possibly more than one now I dust the memory bank, but unfortunately not THE David despite the fact that in the photo below he is doing the bedroom eyes) and broke my metatarsal.

My mother always says, why let the truth get in the way of a good story so I will be as sensationalist as possible today. Are you ready....? You best sit down.

On Saturday, I stood up.

Yep. That is it.

I was sitting and then thought, I know I will get up. Only my little foot did not agree and something clicked and reduced me to the hot limper I am today.

When I told Mr Doctor this he was understandably alarmed, I mean, bones don't just break themselves for the hell of it and he pondered aloud about worrying sounding Serious Illnesses that would weaken the bones.

Sure, why not, I thought, I mean, with all the stuff I have been through during my brief time on the planet (Jeremy Kyle would have a field day with me....), I have already worked out that I must have done something pretty naughty in a past life so what is a Serious Illness thrown into the mix?

While I was thinking all of this my lovely doctor (who's middle name is Grieg by the way - I thought you'd like to know) announced that in actual fact, I was not dying, but that I had managed to have a hairline fracture from this which, combined with working out like a maniac for la wedding, had made my little metatarsal to just give up.

And that is the full story.

Love,

Livy-don't-call-me-hoppy-Pink