I fell on ice. AGAIN. Has no one heard of salt?
The good news is that this time my amazing display of grace and form was softened by my upper body landing on the garbage bag full of used kitty litter I was hauling out to my mom's garbage can. Otherwise, I may have re-injured my shoulder. Though, let me just say...ewww.
The bad news is I ruined my favorite pair of decade-old Calvins. When I fell this time I fell forward on my left knee, blowing out the knee of my jeans. I slit that beloved denim straight across from seam to seam (and left most of the skin from that knee on the concrete.)
"They still look good," Jason said as I walked in the door. "If this were 1995."
And considering my favorite way to wear these jeans was with an old flannel shirt on weekend days when I felt like going on a Panera bagel run before getting showered and into real clothes, I guess they'll still do. But there's no disguising their 1990s-ness now.
My body has been meeting the asphalt far too much here lately. It's been a while since I actually skinned a body part, though, and I couldn't help, when my mother insisted on pouring peroxide on my wound before I left her house as though I am still seven, thinking of the Great Bike Wreck of 1989 when I essentially road-burned all the skin off of one knee, shoulder, and the upper-left side of my head.
Mom reached for the peroxide that day, took a second look at me, and sent my sorry ass to the emergency room for my first and only trip there.
The triage nurse looked at my bloody profile.
"What kind of bike was it? Motorcycle?"
My dad grinned his crooked, devlish grin. "Nope. Ten-speed!"
I won't lie. I hated him a little right then. He was amused that his brainy but coordination-challenged youngest daughter had done so much damage riding an ordinary bike up to (oh, the irony) volleyball tryouts.
Given my long and proud history of falling onto pavement, and the unfortunate fact that my daughter shows some skills in that area herself, I am a huge proponent of bicycle helmets.
In fact, I am considering wearing one (and knee pads!) every time I get out for the rest of the winter. At least, until people discover that sodium chloride melts winter ice.
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3 comments:
I feel your pain - though I have been lucky so far this winter. I can still remember the utter humiliation and pain (both literal and figurative) of falling on my butt not once but TWICE before my interview at Centre - I had blood running down both legs (and a completely ruined pair of pantyhose!). I still think they felt sorry for me and gave me a scholarship :)
Hey, your jeans aren't totally out of style. I've seen plenty of people running around with the slashed knee jeans. You know how fashion comes back around. :)
I'm practically giddy to learn that I'm not the only dork wearing clothes that are about 10 years old.
And corycaleb's comment made me flash back to my Centre interview. I didn't fall, but it's a wonder because I was so nervous. I remember walking down the stately hall at Old Centre. I imagined I'd lost 3 feet off my already pitiful stature, second- and third-guessed my choice of dress, and generally felt as out-of-place as a fish on asphalt.
At the end I rode home in the truck with Dad. Naturally, he asked about the interview, and I was unable to remember a thing they'd asked me or that I'd said in response. I was convinced I'd bombed and just said, "There's no way I will be able to go to school there." It is still a thrill to have guessed that wrong.
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