Pimp My Limb: The Sequel

Every five years, insurance companies (assuming you've charmed them properly and maybe cried on the phone once or twice) approve a new prosthetic limb. That might sound like a long wait, but in prosthetic years, five is a lifetime. That's five years of innovation, new materials, better alignment tech, and brands you've never even heard of. Suddenly, you're sitting in your prosthetist's office feeling like a kid in a candy store—except the candy is made of carbon fiber, hydraulic joints, and high-tech wizardry. I have arrived at that five-year mark, and although my current leg has been very good to me, it's time to find something that can do more to keep up with my lifestyle. Paris in the fall? Hiking in Arizona in the spring? Dancing with my girls on a Virgin Voyages cruise in the summer? Yes, please.

The best part? Trying them on is this surreal mix of medical science and Cinderella moment. You slip your residual limb into the new socket and take a cautious step, and sometimes, it's magic. Like, is this how other people walk all the time? Kind of magic. And other times it's like, "Oh, cool, this one makes me walk like a malfunctioning Roomba."

And while there is, yes, pressure to pick the "right" one, because this is your leg for the next five years, it's also thrilling. You get to imagine what life will look like with this new piece of gear attached to you. Will it help you hike more, stand longer, walk without pain? Or at the very least, will it let you chase down the ice cream truck without doing the robot?

And honestly? You start dreaming a little. You picture future trips, long walks, maybe even awkwardly attempting a yoga class again (with wildly modified tree pose, of course). You think about the things you stopped doing over the last five years, not because you didn't want to, but because your old leg just couldn't keep up.

This moment, the choosing, the trying, the imagining, it's a weird, wonderful mix of possibility and power. And as strange as it sounds, few things feel more badass than picking out the very tool that will carry you forward.

Even if it does cost more than your first car.