I dropped a wine bottle on my foot. It hurts. Don't ask me how I did it, I just did. I was on the phone when it happened too. I almost cried out in terrible pain, but I had to keep up appearances.
Reminds me of when I bruised up my thigh a week before my wedding day. Dear Sir and I were sweeping the cobwebs off the landing of my parent's house. I was on a high ladder and Dear Sir held it steady. I waved a broom around to get the cobwebs and then I noticed a big fat spider.
"Brush AWAY from you!" cried Dear Sir.
"Huh?" I said stupidly as I brushed toward myself. Down came the dangling, furry, fat spider.
I jumped off the top of the ladder and landed at the foot of the steps (a whole flight down, mind you). I don't like spiders.
This is the point in my story where I lose track of what happens next or what happens around me because all I could concentrate on at that moment was the gargantuan pain in my right thigh. I swear, it hurt so badly that I could have cried a hundred years, but Dear Sir, I knew, was looking at me and I did not want him seeing me cry in pain. How embarrassing. I got up somehow, limped to the couch and winced a million faces of silent torture before Dear Sir could catch up to me to see if I was going to be alright. I could not answer him---in fact, I don't even know for certain if he said anything because pain was all encompassing. I know that if I did say anything at all I said things in short little gasps.
"That was crazy---you fell all the way down! " I think he said---maybe something about brushing away from me. I lost it. Can't remember with any clarity. Pain.
Fast Forward to Our honeymoon:
I was so embarrassed because as I put on my wedding dress (which was white) I realized that maybe people could see the huge, black, blue, purple, red, orange, multicolored madness on my right thigh through my dress. It was HUGE. I mean, about the size of a volleyball. I thought about putting make up over it, but makeup can't cover up that kind of bruise. I have really never seen anything like it since (maybe only people that visit the ER or something).
So, on our honeymoon, naturally, Dear Sir had never seen me even in a bathing suit before let alone anything less. I remember we got in this hot tub at the beachhouse we were staying at and I had my suit on. He was already in the tub. I tried to get in sideways on my left side so as to hide the bruise. I thought I was being sneaky.
"You know, I've seen the bruise already, Rachel," he said with a smirk on his face. "You can't hide it."
"Uh, he he," I muttered.
You know, hurting yourself in front of people is sometimes a good lesson in self-restraint. The only pain I endured that I could care less if any one saw me scream about was the kidney stones I had and when I gave birth to Eraser Eater. A common thing for me to say about the latter experience is that "I could have cared less if I were buck-naked, screaming, in the middle of a McDonald's. It hurt that bad."