I love New Yorkers and how they love to guess what happened to me.
People from my neighborhood who know me say things like, "I hope the dog didn't do that!"
People that don't know me say things like, "Skiing accident?"
No one, not one single person, guesses that it's surgery.
Right, because what is an otherwise excessively healthy-looking woman doing having surgery? It must have been an snowboarding accident, a car accident. Not a genetic accident.
My favorite was the man-child behind the counter at Starbucks today. He asked why I had surgery and when I told him I had hip dysplasia, he thought for a second and said, "I think my mom had that for a while."
I gave him the only answer I could, learned at the knee of my brilliant writer friend Jennie who has perfect human pitch: