I learned something new about myself this weekend… no, it has nothing to do with my closet Spice Girl obsession back when I was 16. Hey, gurllll, Scary Spice… nice to see you on the Olympic closing ceremonies! Victoria Beckham aka Posh Spice was doing her usual too-cool-for-school-and-this-Olympic-Closing-Ceremony face… which is totes the face I want to perfect in this lifetime… fingers crossed… send me sour-puss-face-making vibes y’all!
No, I learned that I’m a severe pronator when I walk. For those of you not familiar with what exactly pronation means. It means that when I walk/wog/square dance, my feet are constantly drifting inward every time I take a step… though mine is so severe it’s almost like I’m walking not with my foot, but on my ankle. Lindsay and Madre noticed it when we were wandering the streets of Park City… and I didn’t believe them because I would have guessed I was a supinator owing to the fact that I constantly get callouses on the outside edges of my upper feet. I made them take a video of me walking from behind… and it made me cringe. It was bad… and it looked painful. And that, my friends, will be first on my list of things to fix. Maybe if I can find some fixes for my pronation issue, I can walk/wog/square dance more comfortably… Merle, my square dance partner will thank me later!
Question of the Day: Are you a pronator/supinator? Any recommendations for shoes, inserts, assistance for such an issue?
I will blog more about Park City, etc., later, but for now I’ll leave you with this tidbit. When we were wandering up and down Main Street, I spotted a shop named Cake. It was a pretty good spot since I was at least a block away… but I seem to eye out sugar far better than anything. I was totes excited… you name a place cake and I’ll be your best customer!! I drug Madre and Lindsay out of our way just to get closer to it…
Excuse you, shop! You name your place something as delectable as Cake and then have the nerve to not have one ounce of frosting anywhere in your facility, I’m calling foul! Ain’t no fat kid ever going to fit into your boutiquey clothing… bring in some real dagnabbed cake… either that or change your name to Dresses and Things Fat Kids Don’t Care About! As if!!