Bruised like a peach

Friday, April 15, 2011

I just completed a 12 mile run that left me feeling physically ill and unable to move from the couch, so I figured I'd go ahead and update my blog while I sit here in agony (we runners are a crazy breed of people.  What sane person would willingly do this to themself?).  I was kind of hoping that yesterday's post would be the final one of the week and I could send my readers into the weekend on a strong, more serious note before I resume writing about bodily functions and staging elaborate crime scenes with my toys on Monday.

I've been getting a lot of questions about this, so I'm going to just clear it up once and for all.  All week I've been getting raised eyebrows and curious expressions about the absolutely horrific yellow and purple bruise that is spanning across my left bicep (which of course is noticeable because my biceps are like, super huge and muscular).  I did the best I could to cover it up with sweatshirts, but it's been incredibly hot this week, and I've been forced to choose comfort over camouflage and have been wearing shorter sleeves.   It's nasty, it's raised, it hurts ...

and Clayton did it to me.


Now, before anyone goes calling the police or gets a bee in their bonnet over it, let me just say that it was completely unintentional and, in hindsight, actually kind of funny.

2 weeks ago (yes, I've had this bruise for 2 weeks now) Clayton and I were participating in our usual Friday night ritual and driving to the movie store to rent some new releases.  We were both in good spirits and were enjoying the warm spring air that was fragrant with emerging flowers and growing grass.  Earlier in the day I noticed that the trees in our apartment complex were exploding with cherry blossoms and some had a type of flower on its branches that I had never seen before.  The best way to describe it was to say the blossoms looked like fully bloomed stargazer lilies, and they were absolutely gorgeous.  And of course the second I saw them I called Clayton at work and was like, "OMG. BLOSSOMS! SO PRETTY! OKAY ... UM ... BYE!" (I've seriously lost count of all the pointless reasons I've bothered him at work: "HA HA. JOEY JUST DID THE FUNNIEST THING! BUT IT'S HARD TO DESCRIBE, SO I GUESS YOU JUST HAD TO BE THERE. OKAY ... UM ... BYE!")  So, while we were heading to the movie store I remembered I wanted to show them to him and suddenly screamed, "Stop the car! I'm picking a blossom for you!"

He stopped the car and I hopped out to rip a tiny branch off the tree.  Only, when I turned to get back into the car, he started driving away. So there it was, 11:00 o'clock at night, and I am in the middle of the apartment complex parking lot sprinting after my husband wailing, "Heeeeeeeeeeeeey!" for several yards.  Every time I got close to grabbing my open car door, Clayton would speed up.  "Come on!" he taunted, leaning over the center console to look at me. "Jump in!" There was no way I was going to attempt to 007 my way into a moving vehicle, but like a moron I kept chasing after him.  Then, just as quickly as he started driving away, he stopped ...

... only I kept going ...

... and slammed into my open car door.

"I bruise like a peach!" I screamed, picking myself up and crawling into the car.  "A peach, Clayton. A PEACH."

It was a silent car ride to the movie store.

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2 comments

  1. Hilarious! I have a matching bruise on my left forearm. Only I have NO clue how I got it ...

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  2. I have 4 different bruises right now and only know how I got 2 of them. It's a mystery. But it seriously takes NOTHING for me to bruise. Clay has tickled me before I had to tell him to stop because I knew it would end up turning my skin purple ... and I was right!

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