Tuesday, July 26, 2011

Bruises heal. Glory lasts forever. Supposedly.

This is a pretty picture taken last year at the beach. It has nothing to do with this post. It's just something pretty so the first things you see aren't my escalator-bruised legs.

I am a triple threat of a lady that easily bruises, effortlessly falls/runs into things, and frequently forgets. Thus on any given day there could be any number of bumps and bruises of unknown origin on my person. Most of the time I barely notice them. Then this happened:

But I know exactly where these came from: A tumble on the metro escalator last week. Or should I say metro stairs because of course the escalator was broken. Because the escalators are always broken. As is the air conditioning in many metro cars. As are the rails or tracks or switches that cause delay after delay every other day. (Can you tell that after nearly four years as a metro rider, in a system that is rapidly declining, I'm a little frustrated? That's a rant for another day.)

While walking down the stairs, my feet slipped and one leg went out, one went up under me while sliding down, and my arm practically came out of its socket grasping the railing. I scraped my right leg from knee to ankle and it throbbed for nearly two days, requiring pain reliever. As a chronic klutz who never has to medicate for bumps and bruises, I was insulted!

There's also a bruise on my hip and a few on my arms. And of course the six-inch scar from the iron burn on my left leg. (I'm trying not to take this as the universe's way of telling me not to be so vain about my legs, which I quite like.) Bottom line: I'm looking a little rough.

A friend told me recently that this flair for bruising (and burning) meant I wasn't the ideal girlfriend as everyone would assume I was being abused. That was nice to hear. Except:
  1. Domestic violence shouldn't be treated so casually.
  2. I don't really think in terms of what would or wouldn't make me an ideal girlfriend. Ever.
  3. I responded that he or she also wouldn't make the ideal boyfriend or girlfriend. No specific reason given; I am just that petty.
  4. I really don't care. 

This still got me thinking, of course. Thus my new remedy to this situation, and by extension the situation of my singleness, is to wear a t-shirt that reads:
"Hi! I'm a klutz that bruises easily; I'm not being abused. Also, I look youngish, but am 27. Please feel free to appropriately hit on me. But no actual hitting because I'll sue. Thanks!"

Hopefully I'll have an update in a couple of weeks.

Photos: mine, mine, here, and here.

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