5:00 PM |
I am Mrs. Magoo. I can't see without my glasses and I regularly bump into things or fall, or both. I smacked my jaw on something in the attic, but I don't know what or when. I just know that I'm scraped up. Last night, I ran into a floor lamp and hit myself so hard that my glasses cut the side of my nose. This is not unusual. I am habitually covered in bruises.I had the mother of all accidents my first time with my trainer. He had me doing plyo jumps onto a box. This box is the kind with legs on it, flat metal black legs. I had asked to have a trainer to beat the shit out of me and he could make me cry as long as I was safe (The Biggest Loser influence, I think). Bring it on. Anyhow, I bent my knees and jumped as high as a could, which apparently wasn't anywhere near high enough. I took a huge chunk of my shin off. Now, of course, I had my game face on, plus I have a pretty high tolerance for pain to begin with. I kept on going. Ron The Hun looked at it for awhile and then asked if I have any problem with alcohol (martini? g&t? a nice red?). No, I said, and he wiped it down with an alcohol wipe. Honestly, I didn't even feel it. We went back to work. Large droplets of blood kept on splashing down on the floor. I guess we ought to put a Band-Aid on it, he said. And we did. And we kept on going.
After a few sessions, it became clear that I required triangular orange hazard signs. Once he had to get out of my way so fast that he put a major bruise on his knee. And to top it all off, as I was walking to my car, he was going the other way, said goodbye, and I went flying across the sidewalk, flinging gym gear into the drainage pond. I still can't find my lock. And speaking of locks, I have had three cut off my locker to date. No, I didn't forget the combinations.