The Adventures of Cheryl

So, I like to think I'm tough. I think bruises and injuries are the perfect evidence for toughness.

However, most of my bruises come from a combination of not eating enough bananas and things like forgetting there's a track along the top of the tub for the sliding shower door (I lived in a place for a year and had a perpetual bruise on my left shin because I'd forget to step just half an inch higher).

So right now, I have this bruise on my right arm. Bruises on my leg I understand, they're work related from when I sit at the counter that only has enough space under it for one leg. So the bruises are from banging against the side of the drawers. But the arm.... I thought about it for a while. The only thing I could even think it might be is a monkey finger mark. Laverne grabbed my lab coat yesterday and must have grabbed some flesh as well.

I wish it were a better story. Thinking back, the best bruises I've ever gotten have been from stupid things, like falling on some ice or down the stairs or having a bed collapse on my leg. I'm really not clumsy. I promise. I think I don't think these things - beds and showers - could hurt me, so I don't pay as much attention as I do when I'm roping cattle or jumping out of airplanes (I've never done either). I think that because I haven't injured myself while being daring means that I'm really not clumsy (well, there was that time when I was waitressing and I catapulted meatballs on a customer who didn't even order meatballs. That was clumsiness).