I’ve been to the physiotherapist.
I did okey. She told me I can start dancing again, can’t go back to work yet but I can practise at home *Michel sooo happy now*
– You have to wear this one, Michel.
– Oh, that’s hot, I wonder if I can find a guy with an ankle-aid-fetish.
– You just have to wear it when you’re practising dancing.
– Relief.
Huggies and kisses
/Michel
I went to the physiotherapist, the door is closed and locked.
Uhm.
It’s sunday today, of course she’s not there. She told me ‘monday’ and even though I wrote in the last post that it’s sunday I lost it and thought this is the day.
Okey, I’m a little confused every now and then.
Okey, I might be stupid.
Okey, off to the gym instead.
Huggies and kisses
/Michel
It’s sunday already. I’m on my way to the physiotherapist and then the gym. I hope she’s gonna say that my ankle is back to perfect but I know she won’t.
We had a great night here yesterday, movies, snacks and wine. I feel….flabby, a fatso so to say.
But most of all I would like to catch a flight to England, meet up with the guys in my team and join the tour. I’m supposed to be there and now I can’t, it sucks big time. That’s what bothers me, that’s what makes me low and down. And that’s what makes me go to the fucking physiotherapist every time she tells me to.
Huggies and kisses
/Michel
Good morning people!
Time to get up now, isn’t it.
Had a very nice evening with David yesterday even though we didn’t succeed with the shelf. A nice bath and then I dropped him off at his place.
Today I have to get my lazy bum to the gym *singing* “..working on my fitness, he’s my witness…” and the physiotherapist. I have to vacuum (WOOHOO) and iron the huge pile of clothes on the floor in the closet. I have to, didn’t say I’m going to. We’ll see about that.
Huggies and kisses
/Michel
The physiotherapist thinks I’m a good boy walking with crutches. If she only knew. I put them in my closet as soon as I got back home. Fed up with it, with them, with my ankle and to not be able to work and dance.
Been down town shopping today, all afternoon, all alone, lovely. (for me that is, not my credit card) Found two pair of shoes, a jacket, jeans and two sweaters. And a belt. D&G is da thing!!I always feel bad afterwards, I love the nice pieces I buy but I know I have to…explain to my dad why I HAVE TO spend and spend and spend. And then I feel sorry for him.
BUT there is one thing, only one, that pisses me off when I’m shopping. SLOW WALKING PEOPLE!! Even though my ankle is fucked up I walk faster than they are. What are they waiting for?
I secretly want to punch slow walking people in the back of the head.
Huggies and kisses
/Michel
Shit I’m tired today, I’m off to the physiotherapist in 30 and I will bring my crutches to make her happy. She wants me to walk with the cruthes two more weeks. Fuck her. I won’t. Enough is enough, I’m tired of looking like a stupid moron feeling sorry for himself.
When it comes to Stefan I…don’t know. No more dates, I’m not that into him, that’s it. I better stay single I think.
Huggies and kisses
/Michel
Been at the physiotherapists.
“Does it look okey, does it look okey? Tell me it does!”
“Ummm…”
“Please, does it look okey?”
“Look? How does it feel?” *she grabs my foot and twists it a little to the side*
“GAAAAAHOUCH! Stop it!”
“Great huh!”
Yeah, great. Nice. I so love my life right now.
Huggies and kisses
/Michel
The report:
My ankle is not feeling well, it didn’t like the way I twisted it. Therefor I will be off duty for AT LEAST two months. Two months. I’m thinking two months and wanna throw up…and jump. But that’s not gonna happen, can’t wast my precious time on feeling sorry for myself, right?! So I won’t. My physiotherapist is a girl btw, Alex, and she’s 29 yo, an ooooold lady! Haha!
I’m gonna tell you all about my trip to France, I haven’t, I know that and I do feel bad about it.
And then I’ll tell you about my plans for the next two months.
But now I have to spend some time with Malin, she’s sitting here next to me, rubbing my back.
Huggies and kisses
/Michel
First of all I have to tell you that I will start working again in…january!! Fuck-hell-bitch-damn-crap-freaky-shitty ankle, I’m telling you. Well, that’s what my dads physiotherapist in France told me anyway. I fell, down on the floor on my knees, shaking and crying my eyes out. Screaming, yelling and begging;
“HELP ME, MONSIEUR, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT! WHAT DO YOU WANT? ALL THE MONEY IN THE WORLD? A HORSE? A BRAND NEW CAR? AN APARTMENT? A BLOWJOB? PLEASE! I’LL GIVE YOU WHATEVER, JUST TELL ME AND MAKE MY ANKLE FIT FOR FIGHT!
(I didn’t cry my eyes out but my heart was crying, big time, a few tears down my cheeks)
He starred at me, in broken english;
“Michel, what happened to you? You are craaaazy!”
And then he had a cup of coffee. Bastard.
I’ll meet with my physiotherapist tomorrow and if he tells me the same thing I have to…I have to…jump. From my balcony. (I can’t jump with this ankle, I’ll have to climb over and then let go and fall. I can’t jump, ironic, tragic, sad)
Huggies and kisses
/Michel
My Michelicious behaviour 