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Tuesday, August 23, 2011

In which I flaunt my spectacular ability to injure myself...

Recently I have been finding some very cool blogs to follow, a bunch of which are written by some amazingly funny ladies who, half the time, I think are either related to me or spying on me through my magic laptop because the coincidences are just uncanny. One of these wondermus blogs is Cheesy Bloggers, who throw out weekly themes and calls for submissions - as in a written submission for a post, not the BDSM kind, which kinda freaks me out still even though I had some past partners who were really into - you know what? Never mind. Back to the weekly theme.

When I saw this week's theme, Injury Stories, I just had to laugh. Anyone who knows me knows I am an epic fail at grace and coordination. I have broken several bones, some of them multiple times (how's that for gifted?), sprained things I didn't know you could sprain doing things I didn't know could cause such an injury (like changing the kitty litter, oh yeah, I am that good), even sustained a few concussions and some whiplash.

Now, some of these injuries were due to my own stupidity/clumsiness/lack of coordination/whatever - like blatantly ignoring my mother and running around the house barefoot as a kid and constantly snagging my pinky toe on the leg of the gigantoid hi-fi stereo every time I whipped around the corner where it was stationed. Broke my pinky toes (yes, both of them) so often that they are permanently swollen. Eventually my parents stopped taking me to the doctor for the toe business because all the doc would do to treat it is tape it to the toe next to it and lecture me about wearing shoes. I could very easily tape my toes myself and my parents were very good at lecturing me, so what did we need the doctor for?

As you can imagine, I wasn't very popular when it came to sports or physical games.  I tried, I really did, but after a while the other kids stopped asking me to play outside games with them. Who wants the clumsy crybaby on their team? It was kind of touch and go for a while but eventually when the neighborhood kids found out that I actually had arthritis & fibromyalgia I guess they felt bad (or maybe felt sorry for me, who knows?) and started inviting me to play with them again. One summer night, when I was 11 or 12, the neighborhood gang came to the door asking if I wanted to play Jailbreak. I hope you readers know what Jailbreak is all about 'cuz I don't have a frakkin' clue. All I remember is that there was running involved. I was barefoot at the time and of course my mother wouldn't let me out of the house without putting on some shoes. Which I promptly ran upstairs to do. Only I chose very, very poorly. I had just acquired some absolutely to-die-for black suede boots, hand-me-downs from my dad's younger cousin who I thought was the rockin'est fashion plate ever. The boots had 2 inch heels, which was pretty high for tween-aged me. Clearly I was NOT thinking of the mechanics of running when I pulled them on. I was thinking how I'd be the envy of all the other girls and maybe catch the attention of the boys....

Oh, I caught their attention alright.

As I clicked my way down the hallway to the top of the stairs in my jean shorts and bad-ass boots (I was a kid, don't judge me!) the gang assembled near the front door, which was almost directly in front of the bottom of the stairs. A perfect view.

"Hey!" they yelled. "What's taking so long?"

I took the first 2 steps and rounded the corner onto the landing. I waved and pointed at my feet. I clicked my heels together and did a little jig on the landing, showing off my boots, just knowing they were all dying inside with jealousy. Then someone said, "Um, boots? with heels?"

And the others chimed in.

"What are you thinkin'?"
"Oh my gawd, you can't run in those!"
*insert laughter here*
"Where are your sneakers?"
And then my mother. "You can't possibly think you're going to be able to run in those. Go change your shoes. Now."
"No no, I'll be fine," I said. "I can run -" and I took my first step -
- and missed. And proceeded to tumble ass over head all the way down the entire flight of stairs.
The entire gang was in hysterics.
Needless to say, I did not win Jailbreak that night.

I have many more stories, including the time I was shopping innocently and was assaulted by a vicious gang of carpets, the time I threw myself out of bed while dreaming I was climbing a fence to escape aliens, the time I fractured my skull getting into my own car, and the numerous times my cats have tried to kill me, but those will have to wait. I know you'll be waiting with bated breath.

2 comments:

  1. A vicious game of carpets?! i want to hear THAT one! :)

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  2. You don't need to twist my arm, Marianna. It's a lovely story of girl meets carpet, carpet meets girl's head, girl meets ER doctor... You know, the usual. I will try to get it all down in a post tomorrow. :)

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