| (A quick note first--poor Anton is quite ill at the moment, which accounts for his lack of Monday post. Apologies from all of us, and wishes for Anton to feel better soon. I guess that curse I put on him worked, huh?) So. I am clumsy. I have many tales of clumsiness (sounds like a good title for a rather lame antho, doesn't it? Tales of Horror, Tales of Dread, Tales of Clumsiness.) Like the time when, 3 months pregnant with my first, I walked into the couch and dislocated my pinky toe. It literally stuck out at a right angle from the rest of my foot, and hurt like hell. I called my Mom. My Mom, keep in mind, is an emergency room nurse. Sobbing, I told her what happened. Her response--remember, this is the response of a licensed emergency room nurse, who is furthermore my own mother--was to say irritably, "Why weren't you wearing shoes? You know you're clumsy!" Or, the more important parallel to today's story--which is in fact much the same story--would be the day my husband and I returned from our honeymoon. Ah, newlyweds. We were getting ready to go to sleep. Turned off the bedroom light, realized we'd left the bathroom light on. "I'll get it honey," I trilled, eager to be a Helpful Loving Wife. I got up, switched off the light, turned to head back to the bedroom...and slammed my nose into the doorframe. It really hurt. But the best part was imagining the black eye I would get from it, and how I was due back to work in two days. So I'd arrive fresh from my honeymoon with a black eye, and tell everyone I walked into a door. Yeah. Sure. (I didn't end up bruising, luckily.) And now, eight years later, I am in the exact same situation. This morning I was brushing my teeth (an activity which seems particularly hazardous for me of late.) Hubs walked in, like he does, which drives me nuts because I hate having people watch me brush my teeth, but whatever. Anyway, I rinsed, and we had a short chat about whatever. I patted his behind and turned to leave the bathroom... whereupon I smacked my nose right into the freaking bathroom door. The edge of the door. Hard. It still hurts. Throbs, even. I can't really tell yet if it's swollen--it looks a little puffy to me, but my nose always looks puffy to me because I hate my nose (perhaps it's puffy from crying over how I don't like it?), but the shadow under my left eye seems a little darker than usual...and my stepdaughter arrives tomorrow for her summer visit. If the eye goes black, I will post a picture. But seriously, I walked into a door? Why don't I just tell people my husband beats me, because you know that's what they'll all be thinking. Anybody got any ridiculous injury stories to make me feel better? Or callous mothers? . |
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I once turned to leave the bathroom in the student digs I was living in, slapped the door to open it, and entirely forgot that I'd left down the bathmat, which prevented the door opening.
*WHACK!*
I'm a violent sleeper. Now when I say that I don't mean that I toss and turn (which I do) I mean that I am a VIOLENT sleeper. I have a tendancy to wake up with a black eye or a cut lip. God help anyone sharing a bed with me...
Try explaining that one to school/work.
*grin*
Um...everytime I hear people say their husbands beat them, I automatically think clumsy. Probably a good thing I've left the psychotherapy business.
Sometimes I think I'm superchef and start chopping stuff all fast. Well, on one of these occasions, while adhering to the fingers curled under rule mind you, I chopped into my thumb. Not satisfied with a simple cut, I drove that blade straight through the nail and right down to the bone.
It's times like those that remind me why I don't have my own cooking show.
I'm just like you. I claim a "depth perception issue". Every Single Day I run into walls, doorframes, cupboard doors. With my feet, with my shoulder, with my head. Knocked myself out on a cupboard door once. *sigh*
My husband, caring soul that he is, likes to call out "Did that wall just appear there?"
This is so ditzy. After shampooing my hair, I stood before the sink combing the moouse stuff through, got it tangled, yanked, comb dropped to the floor, I bent to pick it up and slammed my forehead on the counter. What pretty little stars!
Oh yes, clumbsy is my middle name. I swear I cant walk thru a doorway without hitting the sides. And at work Im always running into file cabinet drawers that I left open. I know I know I should know better LOL.
On top I bruise easily so yes I always have bruises... Good thing Im single LOL
I wouldn't truly call myself clumsy but man, I once kicked the fridge as I was running by and spent 4 hours in the hospital getting stitches, I literally rode my bike into a hole in the ground, 4 hours just in x-ray but no broken bones, I dropped a dresser on my foot and while no hospital visit that time you can still see the dent in the muscle. Yeah when I go I go big.
Um... I had to go to Casualty with multiple squirrel bites. Needed to be patched up and given a tetanus shot. Yup. *has shifty eyes*
This wasn't clumsy, not really, but when I was 13 I decided to play Superman. Hooked my brother's repelling gear into an old rope in our barn and flew ten-feet above the floor. Had a blast until i somehow slipped out of the gear and fell head first. Broke both of my arms and a tooth. Wore a full-arm cast on the right and a forearm cast on the left for about two months.
When I got my splints I decided to climb up on the garage and play Batman, seeing how that would be more safe. I fell off the roof and through the fiberglass awning, shattering it but only gaining a handful of cuts and scrapes.
That's my most famous moments, but not my only ones. Pronies Unite!
I trip a lot! A LOT! two days ago I left a box open at the cashwrap of my music dept. I told all my staff don't fall over the box watch out! What happened to me? I tripped and fell over the box hit my face on the wall and cut my lip..Yep! you heard it facial cutting.. Now every one is asking me if one of my staff members finally got fed up and hit me..neat...my mom is callus too, but that is a whole differnt can o worms.. Hope you are ok!
Can we jump back to the squirrel thing? I'm afraid I have questions.
I was walking down a narrow hallway once just as someone opened a heavy door. It caught me right next to my nose. I have a dark line down the length of my face for a few days. But I am clumsy in general--always sporting random bruises on my legs from bumping into things. And I managed to stub the same big toe twice in twenty-four hours.
Stairs are my Kryptonite...
I don't know if it's because I'm relatively tall or what, but for some reason I have a tendency to fall down stairs unless I hold the rail and pay very careful attention on the way down.
SO... clumsy?
Yep. I'm right there with ya.
I'm absolutely a klutz, and am always banging my hip into doorknobs and my toes into door frames. I also have a bad habit of tripping and throwing my hand out to catch me when I fall; this is bad, because usually I hurt the hand far worse than I would have hurt whatever (usually wide and squishy) body part I'd have landed on. Once I did it on the way to class, and I yelled out "Oh, my goodness" for all the undergraduates around me to hear. That exclamation was as embarrassing to me as the fall itself; guess I need swearing lessons!
tmthomas: Um... I'll see you over on LJ. ;)
Yes Karen, do explain. Squirrel bites?!
Oh, I feel so much better everyone!
And I agree, I think we all need to hear the squirrel bite story. That's too bizarre not to tell, really.
Ouch! Sorry Stacia, but when I read you hit your little nosey on the door jam I laughed really hard. :( I guess I needed a good laugh. Thanks for that haha ;)
Let's see, one time during the middle of sex I was on top and banged my head on the wall behind the bed. Stars and then blackness followed. We thought I had a concussion. It turned out I just had a little bump.
Fellow klutz salute. I injured my hand closing a $#!@# window this week. Argh.
Funny dojo story; a woman who was in my karate dojo had a horrible time every year when she went in for her physical. She'd have all these bruises and every time she'd have to go through this interrogation, proving that she wasn't a victim of domestic violence, honest, she was just in martial arts...
To sum up, you can always sign up for martial arts. Then you've always got an excuse for any injury and it sounds much cooler than "I'm a klutz."