Ow!

It’s really no big secret that I injure myself…A lot. Like that time I walked head first into a pole…or tripped over an invisible wire…or sprained my knee while skiing, walking, getting ice…And many other heartwarming tales of pain and unintentional self-abuse.

Accident prone and injuries - yelling ow!

What “Ow!” sounds like to Brian, according to me:

Mostly, “Ow!” sounds a lot like a trivia game, with a series of questions and multiple choice answers and really, none of them are probably correct, because all of them are correct in a sort of, but not really way…and regardless, the “ow!” ends in pain for someone (usually me) which doesn’t really make anyone feel good about life…or the clumsy existence that belongs solely to me.

OW!

We now interrupt your regularly scheduled life programming because your girlfriend has injured herself again. Do you

  1. Ignore it?
  2. Wait for uncontrollable sobbing?
  3. Pause, and wait for a slew of “Shit, damn motherfucking, hate whatever just injured me this time” cursing
  4. Race immediately to the aid of your damsel in distress for the umpteenth time because she did one or all of the following in a matter of 12 hours?
    1. Burned her hand because she touched the hot crock pot
    2. Knocked her head while trying to store stuff under the stairs in the basement
    3. Dropped a santoku knife on her toe while cutting cheese
    4. Discovers yet another mystery bruise or cut or both

You may now return to your regularly scheduled programming. Though someone may have lost a little blood. I recommend chocolate.

Obviously, Brian is a gentleman. And just like a parent can tell the difference between a baby’s cries, Brian can tell the difference between most of my shouts of terror and/or pain. Usually.

And yes, all of those little…accidents…happened between Friday night and Saturday afternoon. And yes, I did slice the ever living baby cheeses out of my toe with the brand new fancy pants Pampered Chef santoku knife. And yes, Brian did come bandage me up.

He also came running when I was trying to hide the 4 laundry baskets full of dirty laundry (we FINALLY have a washer and dryer, so laundry is now done) under the stairs so people couldn’t see them.

I’m not sure he knew I burned my hand on the crock pot, and quite frankly, that’s okay in my book. He already thinks I hurt myself too much and too often…

I also found a mystery bruise on my inner forearm – no IDEA how THAT happened. It was like a few weeks ago when I found a foot-long cut on my leg and couldn’t figure out for the life of me where it came from. And seriously. Who has a FOOT-LONG cut that they don’t remember getting? Me. That’s who. And actually, on Sunday, I also discovered a mystery slice on my thumb that may have also come from that very dangerous santoku knife.

Blog Friends, do you have a tendency to injure yourself on the regular? What’s the most recent random injury that you’ve encountered? Do you ever get mystery scars or bruises?

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Comments

  1. I have all manner of scars and dents in my body from walking into things, dropping things, slipping with sharp things. I feel your pain!

  2. I’m pretty accident prone myself. But more so in that weird stuff injures me. I mean who breaks a wrist because a window slams shut on them? I’ve also broken toes dropping a frozen chicken on my foot. I cracked ribs with the power of Bronchitis. I broke my nose getting hit in the face with a baseball as a kid. FUN TIMES!! And yes, us pale girls are always dealing with “mystery bruises”. I have one on my arm that’s taken a good 3 weeks to fade to a gross yellow color. It’s like a rainbow…..on my arm! And I have no idea how I did it!

  3. Mystery bruises. All the time. 🙂

  4. I am so accident prone that my New Year’s Resolution for the last few years has been “don’t fall down”. Also – it doesn’t count if I don’t hit the ground, because yes, of course I had to make that rule. One year I fell between Christmas and New Year’s – so close!

    I have an ugly mystery bruise on my arm that I have no idea where it came from. And I keep finding random bruises on my boobs. Last night I decided those were from my ten-pound dog walking on me. Who gets bruises on their boobs from their dog?!

    I rarely remember where any bruises come from. Sometimes I will remember saying “Ow!” a few days prior, but never what I was doing at the time.

  5. I walk into walls, fall down the steps, fall off ladders, and once I even walked into a glass door nose first. Left a huge schnoz print on it. Oh, AND I was on a first date. Yeah, I’m pretty much a klutzy hot mess.

  6. Let’s see – I’ve walked through a glass door, a screen door, ran into a moving car, fell up and down staircases, ran face first into a tree playing frisbee, and the list goes on and on.

    How I survived a Tough Mudder this summer I’ll never know.

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