It happened to me
November 12, 2011
By Carly Evans
Copy Editor
I’ve always been the one to practically pee my pants laughing whenever someone falls on “America’s Funniest Home Videos” or in those silly YouTube compilations. Never did I think something like that would actually happen to me. But wait, it did — it happened to me.
I was home sick one day because, long story short, I was in the hospital the day before. By doctor’s orders I was supposed to go to my regular pediatrician — don’t judge — that day. As I was getting ready, I had to go downstairs to tell my mom something. I was wearing those boot-like slippers, the ones that were in style like two years ago from Urban Outfitters.
While approaching the five stairs that would get me to my living room, I slipped. Not the normal kind of slip where you lose your balance and fall on your butt, though. My feet literally swept out from under me, thus forcing me to slide my feet down three stairs then fall on my butt. The whole time my mom was watching me, but did she try to help me to stop falling? Of course not.
Anyway, when I landed, I had never experienced so much pain. I screamed so loud my neighbors came over to make sure I was OK. I couldn’t even breathe for a good three minutes, and don’t even ask me about actually moving…that took about eight minutes.
When I did regain the use of my legs, naturally, I ran straight to the bathroom to see what I thought would be either a huge gash on my “upper thigh” or at least a bruise. Nope, nothing. Not even a mark.
So, I went on with my day. I went to the doctor, boring, I know. But, when I came home, I decided to give my butt another look. I saw just the slightest bruise beginning to show.
I would come to regret wishing there was a bruise there in the next few days. Sure enough, when I woke up the next morning, there was a bruise, so blue and so black, taking up my entire cheek. No, I’m not even close to exaggerating.
I just couldn’t keep this to myself, I absolutely had to tell someone, and, well, show them, too. But who could I trust enough to show them such a private part of my body? Well, none other than the girls of The Prospector. Many of the girls have told me that my bruise looked “like Russia.” So, I take that as a compliment.
Moral of the story is, never think you’re too good or too special for something so stupid to happen to you. Oh, another moral is, if you ever need someone to show your gross bruises to, stop by The Prospector room.
