ACL Troubles: But I'm not a football player?

I am a reformed chubster. I exercise like crazy because my biggest fear in life is to gain weight and become who I used to be. Don't get me wrong. She wasn't bad. She was happy. She rarely noticed when she gained a pound. She was happy with her size most days. She wasn't self conscious anymore. She just wasn't the real me. The real me is about half that size, and wants to drop it like it's hot every day of her life. I want to go into the courtroom looking like Elle Woods and giving everyone "Elle" one Motion at a Time. I want to be fashionable, and basically the Disney Princess of lawyers. I want to spend every day working out whether it be running, hiking, or (most importantly) dancing.

My life was on track. I just finished the Disney Princess Half Marathon. I spent over a week at Disney planing our Dunham Disney Wedding. Our firm, Magic City Law, was getting new business practically every day. I was teaching Dance Trance part time and really loving my cardio wedding prep classes. I was losing weight and preparing to fit into the perfect dress. We decided to take our dogs for a hike at our favorite park, Red Mountain. About a mile in, our fat little black lab saw a critter. I ended up being pulled into the air. I landed hard and twisted my knee. I felt a pop. I knew it was bad immediately. I hit the ground screaming in pain. Normally I giggle and cry at the same time... sooo the screaming was a clue that we hit the big time injury here.

My fiance, bless his heart, stood there in disbelief. He then called the Park Ranger. The Park Ranger could not figure out where we were. I think he called us like eight times. When he finally got to our trail, he walked 10 feet in, looked at Jon and said he had to call the fire department. The fire department came out to where I was and had to carry me out. They also poked fun at the Park Ranger and said he could have handled it. I get to the entrance of the park and there are tons of firetrucks. I'm completely embarrassed. Little ol' me had caused one heck of a stir. The news blog, Al.com even came up to get the scoop. I refused to go to the Hospital because the last thing I wanted was to sit in pain for five hours while gun shot victims were wheeled in. Instead I went to make sure it wasn't broken at a walk in clinic. They gave zero cares about whether or not I could walk at first. No one offered me a closer chair. It was almost an hour of me hobbling that I even got offered a wheelchair.

On Monday I went to my Ortho. I went across town to get my MRI. At this point I wouldn't know until Wednesday whether or not I could dance again anytime soon. On Monday evening, one of my friends from DT, who also worked for my Ortho facebooked me. She then called and broke the news to me. I tore my ACL. I knew it was bad at that point. My first thought? I'm NOT a football player. I'm a dancer! I'm delicate, and fragile, and apparently broken. Broken was the best way to describe my reaction. I was heartbroken ten times over. After I told my friends at dance, my fiance, and my law partners, I felt horrid. I'm not going to lie. I cried a lot. I googled a lot. I cross referenced with Web MD so I knew exactly what my prognosis would be. I just hoped I was a little wrong.

Wearing my Princess Half shirt!

I cried it out a good bit and I went in the next day ready to schedule surgery and get this movin' along. I started going into planning mode, only slipping back into my poor pitiful me fits every so often. I planned surgery for the next week. I started working from bed. I found out what exercises I could do. I researched what to eat. I started looking up blogs to read. My fiance offered to meet me at the Y to do some upper-body strength and leg lifts. I Pinterested tons of exercises. I even looked up essential oils. I let everyone who wanted to tell me about their relatives who had this surgery, tell me everything they could think of, and give me well wishes. I tried to ignore the old men who said it was going to be awful, and accept the optimistic stories. My mom came down with my brother and they took me to get a surgery outfit to lift my spirits. They also got me an old lady shower chair which made me giggle.

Today is my surgery day. I'm terrified. I won't lie. They have to cut into my knee to get the goods to make my new ACL. The doc offered to use a cadaver but it gave me the heebeegeebees. I heard that my own graft will be stronger, but it'll hurt a bit. I want to be stronger. I want to run another half marathon. I want to fit into one sexy yet classy wedding dress. I want to teach dance again. I also would like to be able to walk up the stairs to my office, so I'm not associating my office life with my sweet, wonderful, soft, bed.

I'm sitting here looking at all the FB posts of well wishes, the texts, and the emails. I'm hugging my dogs. I'm writing this to keep my mind from spinning. I'm also hoping my journey might help someone else. I know when I read this blog which helped me a lot: http://fitblondeyogi.com/ blog. Cheers to my journey! Also, if anyone out there has any influence with Say Yes To The Dress... tell them this story is so much better than a bride who wants to wear cowboy boots.