On Bruising

First things first. I am a girl. A girl who was once upon a time took dance classes, somewhat successfully, in her youth. Granted, they weren't pulling me for solos at the recital, but you know. I COULD HOLD MY OWN FROM THE BACK ROW OF 6 YEAR-OLDS.

Side Note 1: This was not true during one summer when I was in a dance that consisted of a lot of hand holding and running around in a line. That summer I tripped and fell and chipped a front tooth. But I blame my friend Abby for that anyhow, and the whole story deserves its own entry another time.

Side Note 2: But you know what WAS awesome? The year that my ballet class did a dance to the STAR WARS THEME SONG. Do you know what we all dressed up as? Princess Leah. All of us. Complete with yarn-bun headbands.

Anyhow. The point is that I was semi-functional when it came to grace. And now I am not.

I don't know when The Change happened. I think it was freshman year of college, when my falling-to-embarrassment ratio was at it's peak, go figure. But now I have a seriously hard time walking down the street without falling into something or tripping over something. High heels? NO WAY I WOULD DIE.

But the best part is that I barely notice anymore. Which brings us to Mystery Bruises, my new favorite game. I fall and trip often enough that I have my standard response on autopilot (raise self from ground, look around, bright smile on face that says, "No, I'm okay! Really! Happens all the time!" Wave to onlookers. Repeat as necessary.) So much so that i forget how often I go through this in a day. But when I wake up, I have significant evidence that much falling has indeed taken place.

Sometimes Boyfriend and I play Mystery Bruise together:

Me: "Ooh, this one looks like Jesus! Now, when did I get that? I think maybe when I hit the bureau getting socks."

Boyfriend: "You think they all look like Jesus. What about that trash can you smashed into on the way to the grocery store?"

And so on.

So today I have one shaped like Jesus mid-calf. And I have no clue where I got it. My guess is one of the 6,000 times I've hit the bed frame trying to get into bed this week*, but I'm not sure.

* Because yes, I spend the majority of my time simply climbing into and out of bed.**
** Okay, maybe slight exaggeration.