I was CONSISTENTLY falling over in the playground at Primary School, scraping my knee and lodging playground grit into the bloody crevices of my sore hands. OHHHHH THE PAIN.
Back in the day. Before the following happened and I quickly became one huge calamity.....
When I was about 9 years old I began an 18 month stint of being in what seemed like constant pain and plaster casts.
That's right, I broke my arms not one, not two, but THREE times in the space of 18 months. I quite literally have no idea how I do it.
ARM ONE:
My brother and I were playing 'football' in our family's church hall, against two other young boys, whilst our dads helped hang Christmas Decorations. One of the boys we were playing against had taken his shoes off and kicked them to the side of the 'pitch'. As the game got slightly heated one of the boys and I went in for a tackle (i'm not exactly 'down' with the football lingo btw) and as overly fumbly as I am I OFCOURSE tripped over his shoes and landed on my arm - my wrist buckled.
My main worry was not for my arm, but the fear of missing out on the Pathfinders (Our church's pre teen youth group) trip to see Joseph on the West End. THAT was just inconceivable to me.
4 hours in A&E later....... a VERY stroppy nine year old with a fetching white plastercast on her right arm.
NOSE ONE:
Figured I may as well get this one in here......
In class 5 I had my head deep inside my brand spanking new wooden desk looking for my favourite pencil .... whilst holding the roof of my large desk up with my left hand and searching for my stationary with my right. FOR SOME STUPID REASON I let go of the desk lid to search with my left hand as well. OFCOURSE the large wooden lid came slamming down onto the ridge of my nose. Even the distant memory of it makes my eyes water in pain.
1 hour in the nurses office later...... a rather bemused mother and a very stupid young girl refusing to go to the hospital or to wear the special skin binding strips that were recommended to her.
ARM TWO:
Literally a few months after the first accident I was sitting in my class 5 classroom longingly waiting for the playtime bell to ring. BRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!!!
Twenty screaming children came running out of the classroom at full speed. I was one of them. Unfortunately, I slipped, on what I can only assume was a wet patch on the floor (although, at the time i think i pretended it was a banana for humour's sake) and fell forward straight into a HUGE thick metal pipe. My arm took the full brunt of the force.
3 hours in A&E later...... a VERY stroppy mother with a very ashamed daughter wearing a fibreglass cast on her left arm.
ARM THREE:
Another few months had passed since my previous breakage. My friends and I were playing stuck in the mud in the playground. Ahhhh those were the days. I had managed to leg it across the playground unscathed by the 'tagger' and had made camp on the home base - a picnic bench. I was sitting happy when SUDDENLY I felt a push from behind me - the tagger had sneakily and viciously decided to try and push me off of the home base. WHAT A CHEAT. Now, I rather stupidly had sat on the top of the picnic bench and had tucked my feet under the seat. Sooooooo when the horrid little girl pushed me off I fell HEAD first from the top of the bench onto a concrete floor. Rather than SMASHING my forehead into the ground and risking brain hemorrhage I decided to put out my, now rather weak, arms to break my fall.
4 and a half hours in A&E later.....a VERY unsurprised mother with a VERY humiliated daughter with a fibreglass cast on her right arm.
ANKLE ONE:
In my secondary school, we always had a huge end of year assembly with the whole school - on the last day of term. I always dreaded it. When the whole school had assembly together we always had to sit cross legged, boiling hot, piled on top of our classmates on the dusty floor of our hall. After a VERYYYYY long and drawn out assembly we were finally dismissed row by row. I stood up... and literally DROPPED to the ground. My left foot had gone to sleep.... I was so unaware of it that when I stood up my ankle had double over and cracked.
1 hour of sitting with my father (head of maths at my school) in the school hall.... on the first day of the summer..... a VERY VERY red faced, angry 13 year old, with a purple and black foot... on crutches.
ANKLE TWO:
On my placement year from Uni I was interning in Knightsbridge and was out on my lunch break. I popped into the Office shoes shop in the hope of finding a bargain in their closing down sale. I had been coveting some shoes for quite sometime but couldn't justify their price, seeing as I was working for free and thus had no ACTUAL income to speak of.
There they were. The last pair of THE shoes in the shop. Size 6. Discounted. OH EM GEE, IT'S A SIGN. I couldn't resist.
That Saturday my friend Jemma and I were having a night out in Wimbledon - I was house sitting for my brother so we got ready at his house. I wore THE shoes. We were LITERALLY out the door, when I realised I had forgotten my eyeliner (not even an essential for a night out...) I quickly 'ran' back in and grabbed the eyeliner from the coffee table in the lounge. I span round to exit when.... CRACK ... I fell to the floor. My foot lay beneath me crippling in pain. "JEMMMMMMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA". I literally couldn't even stand. That night was a failure to say the least.
1 and a half hours in A&E...... a completely dumbfounded father pushing a completely humiliated daughter around in a wheel chair. (Said daughter then demanded a pair of crutches, which she realised are ALOT of effort).
The devil shoes of which I speak......
Having pulled these shoes out from the back of my wardrobe (I have not worn them since that fatal night..... EXCELLENT waste of money).... I realised they still had the skid/smudge marks on them from where I fell. TWO YEARS AGO.
Ok.... so since this event I have pretty much steered clear of heels, having gotten my two bridesmaid duties out of the way I have stuck to flats. Safe, reliable... and dull yes.
Apart from a few icey falls in Berlin...... thanks to some very poor grip... i have basically managed to remain upright for the last 2 years. HURRAH.
UNTIL.......
KNEE ONE:
Last Friday.
I had been at Jemma's for dinner and a film the night before, and had mentioned that all of my boots now had holes in their soles, and thanks to the HIDEOUS weather we have been experiencing in London I consequently had permanently wet feet. Jem very kindly offered me a pair of her boots, which I have to admit I KNEW very well she would offer up. A very generous young lady.
FYI... i have explained to Jem that she will more than likely receive her boots back with holes in the soles, coated in alcohol and vomit and with the left foot missing. THIS HAS HAPPENED BEFORE.
Back to the point. I was wearing Jemma's boots, which have a SLIGHT heal on them. When i say slight, i mean slight. I had been keeping a close eye on the stormy weather outside and had decided to dash out once the rain had calmed to fetch my lunch. I went to the closest possible cafe and picked up a sandwich to take back to the office. I was exiting the cafe.... squeezing my way past the line of hungry customers when WHAM. I did the splits... and somehow managed to land THWACK (great word) on my right knee. Three rather gentlemanly men swiftly aided me up and asked if i was hurt, to which i responded "Just my pride" (I thought to myself "YES I have always wanted to say that!!!!"). I quickly scampered out of the cafe. Can't return there for a while.
Apparently it wasn't 'Just my pride' that was injured - My Right knee is hideously swollen and covered in 3 different types of bruises...... one of which is below:
OH I am an actual joke.....
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