50 Shades Of Bruised

You might read this title and think I’m going to start talking about kinky sex.

Well, sorry to disappoint, but the bruise I’m referring to was not made in an nice way.

Unfortunately, the other week I had an accident that resulted in a very bad bruise delivered in a way I definitely didn’t enjoy.

It all started when I decided to tidy the garden. Quite frankly, I should have known that any idea with the word tidy in it was bound to end in disaster. But, me being me, I powered ahead anyway. I was just hanging a hanging basket when the incident occured.

I was straining over some old pallets and twisting my body at a decidedly odd angle when I slipped on some moss.

In hind sight, I should have cleaned the yard three weeks ago when I thought about it but that would involve dragging my self away from my computer and kindle and I feared withdrawal symptoms.

So, I slipped.

As my face plummeted towards the wall, my wrist hit the bin, and my back jarred, it occurred to me that this was going to hurt… bad.

I wasn’t wrong, though, surprisingly, it wasn’t my face that took the brunt of the fall, it was my stomach.

My face was saved the impact by pallets hitting me on the bottom of my stomach.

It turns out there are actually advantages to being fat and this is one of them. When you stomach sticks out further than your face, it can stop you falling.

But it still hurt.

I hobbled into the house, uttering a very colourful selection of swear words, that would make a sailor blush, and inspected the damage.

There was nothing there!

Despite excruciating pain in my lower abdomen, there was not a mark on my skin… Until the next day.

I awoke 24 hours later to find a very impressive bruise appearing on my stomach. I examined it thoroughly and decided it could be worse and got on with my day.

This was not the smartest thought I could have had because a week later it was worse… A lot worse.

Each day the smallish bruise developed more and more into a huge purple blob that took up way to much of my skin and hurt like the dickens.

Two weeks later it was still there, bigger than ever and hurting like crazy. I looked at it in the mirror and realised there was only one thing I could do about it.

So, I got out my phone,

Took a picture,

And uploaded it to Facebook with the caption.

“I forgot the safe word!”

Hopefully, the next bruises I receive will be delivered in a more pleasurable way.


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