FYI This has not been spell checked or proof read. So if I say "to" when I shoulda said "too", or "ytou" when I meant to say "you", please don't hold it against me.
xo
I broke my first bone when I was five years old. I was standing on top of this plastic table that was all blue and yellow and red and manufactured by fischer price or some shit like that. I was standing on my tippy toes and reaching up for a ballon. I think I was wearing an overall dress made of courduroy. The table is in our old house, so even though I'm not totally sure that I am five, I know that I am younger than seven because we moved when I was seven, and five sounds like a good age. So there I am standing on this table in our old house, it's between the kitchen and living room, next to the bar with the stools and the marble table. I'm standing on my tippy toes and reaching my little five year old hands into the air as high as I can reach them, and I'm really trying my damndest to get this ballon, and then whamo. My brother comes up behind me, pushes me off the table, and takes the ballon. The next thing I remeber is being in the hospital with my mommy. The doctor was nice. He gave me a cast, and I remeber thinking how my mom was the most beautiful woman in the world. I still think so. I found out recently that the doctor thought my parents were beating me! It's so funny to find out about things like this so far down the line.
Another time I was wearing my pajamas and sitting on the stools facing the kitchen. I would often eat Cream of Wheat here. I liked to put a lot of butter on top, and then sprinkle a layer of sugar over the whole thing. It would make this amazing crust, like creme brulee or something. delicious. except one time there were ants in the sugar. this was very traumatizing. I didn't eat cream of wheat for awhile after that. Anyway, i'm not sure if i was eating cream of wheat on this particular occassion, but I do know that I was in my pajamas and I was leaning back in my stool. My mother had repeatedly told me not to do this, but I did it anyway. On this fateful night I tipped back a little too far and I fell and hit my chin on the marble table that was behind me. I split my chin right open. Next thing I know I'm getting stiches at the doctors office, but I don't cry. I don't even make a peep. I just lay there staring up at the light, and feeling kind of peacful or something. I could see the doctors hands pulling that thread through my chin, and he kept telling me I was a good girl and that I was doing a good job, and that it was almost over. At the end of the procedure the doctor gave me two googley eyed stickers instead of one. I was tough, I could take pain, and the doctor knew it. I put those two stickers right into my sticker notebook and knew that I was a star. I was special. I was different. I had two stickers instead of one. Well that's how it felt at the moment anyway.
Last week on Tuesday I had another run in with a marble table. What the fuck? What's up with me and marble? I was sitting at wildside west drinking a margarita and I put my foot on the edge of a table and whamo, the marble slab fell and landed directly on my big toe. It was quite painful. This time in the emergency room I didn't get any stickers or even a cast, just a Percocet and an ugly blue shoe and a bill.
this is me sitting on my bed writing this blog for you! It's wednesday night at 10:38 pm and I'm trying to decide whether to stay in or go out. My broken toe says I should stay in. but my red lips beg to differ.
