A few years ago, I was playing ultimate frisbee with a bunch of friends and The Boy. He and I were on opposing teams, and when I play against him, I get pretty competitive. Long story short, while pursuing the Frisbee, we collided at high speed:
The Boy’s knee made impact with the middle of my thigh. I was in so much pain, I was certain I had broken my femur. However, after a horrendously long minute thinking I was going to die, the pain slowly subsided, and there remained nothing more than a dull throb. I limped from the field and decided to watch the game from the sidelines for a while instead.
A few days later, I had the biggest, bluest bruise I’ve ever had. No wait, no I didn’t. No, actually, there was absolutely no mark on my body at all from the full-body, high-speed impact with my 6’4” boyfriend. Weird.
On Sunday, I took the train from The Boy’s home to my home. The Boy gave me one of his old bicycles to use in Berlin, so I was travelling with said bicycle. While running to catch the train, one of the pedals on the bike bumped the back of my leg. I will admit that it did hurt a little bit, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Stuff like that happens to me on a regular basis. I guess I need to learn how to walk next to bicycles, or just spend more time riding them.
And from that minor bump, I got this:
That is a bruise the size of a small peach. Or a large plum. And it hurts like a b*tch.
I have to say, though, that I’m probably lucky I even know where the bruise came from. I can’t even remember all the times I’ve discovered bruises (especially on my legs) and have no idea what put them there. I used to get mysterious bruises on my knees, until I realized they were all the same height—and the same height as my coffee table.
I know it’s kind of sick, but I actually get all excited about bruises. They make me feel a little like some tough warrior princess. Rawr.
The Boy’s knee made impact with the middle of my thigh. I was in so much pain, I was certain I had broken my femur. However, after a horrendously long minute thinking I was going to die, the pain slowly subsided, and there remained nothing more than a dull throb. I limped from the field and decided to watch the game from the sidelines for a while instead.
A few days later, I had the biggest, bluest bruise I’ve ever had. No wait, no I didn’t. No, actually, there was absolutely no mark on my body at all from the full-body, high-speed impact with my 6’4” boyfriend. Weird.
On Sunday, I took the train from The Boy’s home to my home. The Boy gave me one of his old bicycles to use in Berlin, so I was travelling with said bicycle. While running to catch the train, one of the pedals on the bike bumped the back of my leg. I will admit that it did hurt a little bit, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. Stuff like that happens to me on a regular basis. I guess I need to learn how to walk next to bicycles, or just spend more time riding them.
And from that minor bump, I got this:
That is a bruise the size of a small peach. Or a large plum. And it hurts like a b*tch.
I have to say, though, that I’m probably lucky I even know where the bruise came from. I can’t even remember all the times I’ve discovered bruises (especially on my legs) and have no idea what put them there. I used to get mysterious bruises on my knees, until I realized they were all the same height—and the same height as my coffee table.
I know it’s kind of sick, but I actually get all excited about bruises. They make me feel a little like some tough warrior princess. Rawr.
Keine Kommentare:
Kommentar veröffentlichen