I have the hugest, most
painful knee scab in the history of the world– a classy accessory for the
modern woman, don’t you think? – and it’s affecting pretty much every aspect of
my life.
I kid you not.
Not only have I
abandoned wearing skinny jeans and all activities involving knee bending
(like…say, walking), I’ve also taken to wearing skin coloured bandaids as a ‘disguise’.
This, of course, is to save myself from answering the embarrassing question:
“Ouch! Where’d ya get that????”
Thank you, friends…..
I’d like to say I got
it by diving in front of a vehicle to save a small child from imminent danger or
that I was pushed over by a scary, tattooed guy……sadly, I think we might both
know I was lying.
So – to ‘fess up – I
bit the bitumen, big time! I was with one of my running buddies, whom I was looking
sideways at, when…bam! One minute I was loping along, the next, I was a bundle
of 2B lines in a Disney sketch!
All I remember is skidding
along the ground with my left arm out in front (way cooler if you’re scoring a try), and the rest of my body
following in hot pursuit (think ‘cheese grater’).
To my credit (there
must be an up-side), I jumped up and regained my composure; as my friend picked
the grass and sticks from my hair…shoulder…back.…
Needless to say, I’m
still cringing. And I suspect my silent running partner is saving this story for a well positioned moment of ‘sharing’……
And I’m contemplating
taking up lawn bowls. Still too dangerous for me? How about chess?
