Cruisin for a bruisin

Whilst dropping trou last night I noticed this gigantor bruise on that no man's land where the thigh ends and the hip begins right on the border of butt frontier. I don't know what is up with my equillibrium, but I am waaaaaaay uncoordinated and pretty much eat shit on a daily basis. Just this morning while walking out of the parking garage I stepped over a chain that was draped between two posts, but neglected to lift my knee up high enough and the toe of my boot caught the chain and I went flying, just BARELY saving myself before my face hit pavement.

What I almost looked like coming into work today. "Morning fellow co-workers!!!"

Axel says I run wrong and my feet aren't parallel to each other. . . . so maybe that's it. Long story incredibly long, my body is constantly running into and falling over things. This hip bruise is the result of me not knowing the dimensions of my own office desk (which I have been sitting at for the past 5 years) and I always cut the corner too close and end up smashing my mother hip into the edge resulting in a permanent banana-like bruise on that appendage. (Ed. note. this happens DAILY). Are my hips expanding and preparing to give birth whether I am with fetus or not, or am I just stupid? (I'm going with the latter). Which reminds me, a couple years ago when I was first learning to snowboard, Axel and I went to Tahoe and got all bruised up because of eating it on the side of the mountain.

Way to shred, Braaaa!

The following week I had a gyno appointment. So my 100 year old gyno was checking out the ol' cervix and while he was doing his thing he asks "How is everything going in your life? Everything ok with the boyfriend?" I thought this was a little weird as we never talked about Axel before, but I said "Yeah, everything is fine". Then he goes, "You guys getting along?" To which I said "Yeah, as much as can be expected." Then he tells me to put my clothes on and meet him in his office. When I go into his office he asks me "Is there anything you want to talk about? Anything at all?" At this point I'm starting to wonder what are the gynocologistics (ZING!!) of this conversation? What exactly does this old man want me to say? So I simply said "Nope, not really" and left. When I got home and got fully undressed in front of my mirror to take a shower, it hit me not unlike an abusive boyfriend . . . . my inner thighs were black and blue and bruised to a pulp as a result of my pathetic attempt at snowboarding. My poor gyno was probably dialing up women's protective services at that exact moment.

Bruise Knee is that you!?!?

(sorry)