It is time that I come clean. I have been holding on to a nugget of a lie for the past 27 years so I’m going to finally tell the truth.
But first, the lie and its consequences…
If you have done the math (and know my age) you have figured that this incident takes place when I was 7 years old. We were at Blockbuster video picking out a flick to be watched that evening in our VCR.
This was back in the day when Blockbusters… well… when they existed, but also had little play areas to corral children while their parents perused. They probably don’t have these anymore because TOO MANY CHILDREN GOT HURT.
The lie: I was playing with my brother, minding my own business when all of a sudden my right foot got caught behind my left foot and I tripped myself. I then fell, by no fault of my own other than tripping on my own feet, and I landed on my right shoulder. Thus soundly breaking my fragile young collarbone.
The consequence: (besides the broken bone) For the rest of my damn fricking life my dad teased me about being clumsy. Actually, everyone thought it was great to remind me that I was the girl that could trip over her own foot.
When I played basketball and tennis in high school the jokes were exhausting. Why did I do this to myself?!
I think it started out that I didn’t want to get in trouble for what really happened and then morphed into covering for my years-long lie. As I got older I kept it up because I didn’t want my parents to think that I was just a big liar. I guess klutz was better than liar? Then as an adult I specifically remember not wanting to make them feel stupid for this ongoing lie-fest.
So… what really happened…
The Truth: My brother, Ran, and I were in the Blockbuster play area not minding our business. In fact, we were acting like previously caged monkeys recently let loose at a banana and poo-throwing festival. You know, like all 7 and 4 year olds do when they are in public, playing with toys they’ve never seen before and told they need to behave while mommy and daddy are out of earshot for an extended period of time.
(Note: The shenanigans my brother and I got into during my parents’ Sunday naps were unreal. Another post for another day.)
In this particular kiddy jail, there was one of those playskool plastic houses. We were taking turns sitting on the top of it and sliding down. This was an exciting feat for a 4 year old, but I needed a bigger thrill. (As I always do) I decided to slide down headfirst. I think you can see where this is going. On my very first attempt I slid right down to the floor and landed hard on my shoulder. I heard the pop and pain exploded through my body.
Possible Result: My parents just might have perpetuated the rumor that I was daring instead of floppy. Like when a waterfall was cascading over a giant rock that I used as a “rock slide.” It ended in blood but the sliding part was amazing. The daredevil stunt was viewed as another illustration of my inelegance. But it was elegant, damnit! Up until the landing, of course.
There you have it. The truth. I have been carrying that baby around with me for 27 years.
AND NOW MAYBE PEOPLE CAN STOP TALKING ABOUT HOW CLUMSY I AM!!
*Incidentally, I do not allow anyone to touch my collarbones. Oh, they’ve healed perfectly. They aren’t going to re-break just by touching them. But I’m certain you will break them if you press to hard.
Irrational fears aside, this wasn’t even the beginning of my adventurous streak, nor the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. What about you? Please tell me you can top my nonsense.