Know what's more tragic than than having holes drilled through your ankle bones, three months in a boot cast and several more months not being able to wear heels? Your doctor saying that you have to wear "sensible shoes" for a while. And no, Chucks don't count. You sit there in his office thinking about how he used to seem like a nice guy and how that facial hair doesn't look jovial anymore so much as sinister. "Yes!" you say to yourself (in the head because previous experiments with conspiracy theorizing aloud haven't gone well for you) "This must all have be an elaborate plot to get me into "supportive" shoes."
Well, Dr. Lapinski, congratulations on a coup well-executed. You recognized the my weak spot (footwear), took on powerful allies (my mother and all of her nagging capabilities) and shamed me to such a degree that I have little dignity left (I'll be wearing Nike gym shoes, like, always.) Touche, sir.