Seems like once a week some world leader and Trump sit together in the White House to, I dunno, talk at the cameras, or maybe just pose for a picture. A month or so ago, world news was happening, but jus then for a brief shining minute when nothing more important was happening, a corner of the Internet was focused on Trump’s cankles.
For those who have managed to skip through life without understanding a cankle: the word is a combination of “calves” and “ankles” and is used to describe the phenomenon of legs so think that there is no demarcation between calves and ankles. Cankles.
The internet took the President’s ankles, along with his suspicious hand bruising, as a sign of congestive heart failure. I took a look at the picture and then looked again, zoomed in, and thought to myself, “you call those cankles?”
Cankles? Bitch, please. (Picture courtesy Yahoo! news)
The internet has high standards for ankles, I guess. Trump was wearing dress socks and I understand black is slimming, but, as someone who has crammed herself into several black dresses, I can wholeheartedly tell you, black is not that slimming. The man does not have cankles.
Down with the thickness. (Picture courtesy The Daily News)
These are cankles and I won’t be taking arguments. Cankle life is not for everyone. Want an ankle bracelet? Better buy two. Crew socks? You want to change out of those socks and maybe wear some shorts later? What’s that gigantic line bisecting your leg? Maybe is your crew sock digging into your cankle. And the existence of cankles implies also the existence on the same person of gigantic calves, which bring their own trouble, particularly whenever fashion swings around to high boots and skinny jeans. These delights are not for the cankled types.
There too comes the jealousy. If you own cankles, you see skinny-ankled women everywhere, just, wearing sandals and high heeled shoes and getting dainty little tattoos. But not for you, my friend. Cover that shit up.
There are some perks: I won a grape stomping contest once. And you would never look at my ankles and accuse me of being weak.
And therein lies my idea for the future of America. I’m proposing a “Cank-off” (obviously workshopping this name) as part of the presidential campaign cycle. You might think that choosing a leader depended on more than ankle-width, but I encourage you to reflect back on last year….does it really?
Can I expect a candidate to hold the weight of the free world on his ankles when he can’t even hold up his socks?
This country was built on the bones of sturdy ankles. Let’s evaluate candidate’s leg pins prior to casting ballots.
Oh, and BTW, vote for me.
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