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Friday, August 6, 2010

Masochist or Complete Spaz...My Most Famous Self-Injuries

If you know me at all, it is pretty common knowledge that I hate when people misuse words. If you want to sound smart, don't impress me with a big word...just know what the hell you're talking about.

Husband and I used to have wars over this b/c he's a Big Word User...for no apparent reason. It would drive me nuts though when he would misuse a word and then argue with me about it. Me...who reads like crazy...who was exempt from College English b/c I scored so high on my AP exam...ME!!! Who did he think he was?

We would often turn to dictionary.com to settle an argument (and declare whose turn it was to gloat).

As I traverse my latest injury (click on it to play catch up), I realize that this is not the first time that I was a victim of myself. I realize that this is not the first time someone could jot down "self-injury" on my accident form. It has happened way too much! Therefore, I believe I may be a masochist (yes, I looked it up to make sure I was using the right word...I always get this messed up with sadist, but I'm definitely not that!)...see definitions:


1. gratification
gained from pain, deprivation, degradation, etc., inflicted or imposed on oneself, either as a result of one's own actions or the actions of others, esp. the tendency to seek this form of gratification.
2.
the act of turning one's destructive tendencies inward or upon oneself.

I left out the definition that mentioned that I may get sexual gratification from my own antics...nah...that ain't gonna happen. There is nothing gratifying about this. Well, maybe one thing is gratifying...it has given me some good blog material.

So, here are the major injuries I have caused myself:

Junior Year of College - boyfriend's fraternity formal where the imbibing began early in the day. I sat down on the edge of the bed for a little rest, only hit the bed with one ass cheek, and begin careening toward the other bed in the room. I then proceed to hit that bed with a vicious force and scrape my face all the way down the extremely polyester bedspread. Not only did I give myself a black eye, but I also had "polyester burn" on that entire side of my face. I rallied though...I showered and got dressed and made my way down to the formal. While some laughed at my stupidity for thinking I looked good (I didn't), most marveled at the fact that I recovered from such a hit. I had another drink and hit the dance floor...only to fall straight down in the middle of the dance floor during the first song. I literally hit that floor like it was my job. I don't remember the rest of the night. The next week was finals...the hit was so ridiculously hard that it ended up infecting my sinuses and I couldn't look down at my books to study. I ended up on antibiotics and looking so awesome with my scabby face and black eye. Good times...

1999 - Working at a crab house and in school full time for my Master's degree. As I was taking out a tray full of dinners (holding my arm straight up in the air b/c I thought I was cool like that), I proceeded to walk down these ridiculously placed steps, falls down completely, and end up with food all over myself and the floor. I don't recall if I was seriously injured, but I doubt it. I probably just got up and made my way to the kitchen to regretfully inform the chefs about my mishap. They were less than happy, but seeing me with tartar sauce on my shoulder made them chuckle, I'm sure.

2006 - Living in my current house and teaching middle school. I step out of my nice hot shower at approximately 5:15 AM (God, that was early) and proceed to towel dry my hair. At some point, I threw my head back (who the hell do I think I am? Bo Derek in 10?) and threw my shoulder/neck out of whack so bad that I couldn't turn my head for 3 days. I finally went to the doctor who put me on muscle relaxers and told me to get P.T. Yes, I was in physical therapy for weeks due to a self-injury.

So, when I listened to the staff at my health club fill out the paperwork, this is what I heard:

Manager: What was she doing while this happened?
Yoga Instructor: We were doing this pose (showed Manager).
Manager: So, you weren't touching her at all?
Yoga Instructor: No, I was on the other side of the room when I heard her screaming.
Manager: Okay, so she injured herself?
Yoga Instructor: Yeah...I guess so.
Manager to me: Honey, you self-injured yourself...awwwww...
Me: Oh yeah...hahahahaha...really fucking funny, right? Get away from me with your fake sympathy. You're just happy I have no grounds to sue your ass! (okay, I didn't really say this b/c I couldn't string two words together, but that is what I wanted to say)

So, that's all I have. All the evidence I have presented leaves you to make the choice if I'm a masochist or just a complete spaz.

Tune in tomorrow to learn the things that Husband is willing to do for me while I'm laid up and things that just make him shake his head in disgust and walk away from me.