I HAVE A BAD LEG, LIKE A CHARACTER IN A Dickens novel, only I got it by dancing ballet. Alone. In my bedroom. I was 16 and practicing a move called a penchee when my right hamstring made a sound like the end of a string bean snapping off. I had to use crutches for six weeks and, because I couldn't sit comfortably in any of the usual configurations, rode everywhere in the back of the family pickup.
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