Tonight, I spent five minutes analyzing the place where my calf meets my foot. It’s called the ankle, and it’s a joint, which I’ve confirmed thanks to a two-second Wikipedia search (sorry, mom).
I couldn’t figure out, for the first four-and-a-half minutes, why I was so obsessed with the joint. I kept bending it and looking at it. Okay, it’s my foot. Great.
Then I remembered. It’s thanks to this little gem, Vox Populi’s Twuesday Tweetacular:
“[Twitterer] saw something at Yates that he couldn’t unsee.”
I didn’t even know what cankles were until four-ish months ago, when a friend kindly informed me that she had them. Apparently, cankles are what a woman has when her ankle joint isn’t perfectly defined.
Frankly, I can’t really distinguish between my ankle and my calf, as I determined this evening during my leg analysis. Therefore, I have cankles.
Because I totally needed something else to be wrong with my body.
I’m not criticizing the Georgetown student who wrote this on his Twitter. It’s not my business to criticize what he writes on his private, locked account. It becomes my business to criticize the broader publisher of this information, though. Vox Populi is the blog of The Georgetown Voice and a personal go-to favorite of large portions of campus for quick updates and good procrastination. I was under the impression that the “Twuesday Tweetacular” is supposed to be full of funny Tweets, not Tweets that illustrate what else is wrong with my body.