My Dark Past of Unavoidable Injuries

I don't really have much to blog about because my day has been made up of only work, thus I shall entertain you with unlikely (but very true) stories from my dark past.*

To begin with, there are a couple of things you should know about me:

• I am an extreme wimp, which is sort of like being an extreme daredevil only it's much more dangerous.
• As a youngster I was very active and did all sorts of dangerous things but NEVER got hurt severely.
• Nowadays I spend most of my time doing perfectly safe INDOOR things.
  

Taking all of these points into consideration, reader, you might assume that I don't get injured very seriously or very often; unfortunately your assumption would be incorrect. Being an extreme wimp, I attempt to avoid situations in which I'm likely to hurt myself; consequently I tend to attract injuries in a variety of other ways that, on the surface, are extremely safe--almost to the point of boredom.

I've paid several visits to the emergency room suffering injuries from activities that you would not think capable of injuring a person badly enough to go there. I would not be lying if I were to tell you I've received stitches twice: the first time was due to sitting on an immobile skateboard in my own driveway; the second was the result of a pumpkin carving gone horribly wrong. I also once sliced open the back of my hand during a read-a-thon in my sixth grade English class. Another time I sprained my right ankle doing a cartwheel on the grass at a church next to my friend's house. Yeah. A cartwheel.

Every scar I have has its own ridiculously domestic story behind it. In fact, now that I think about it, I don't have a single mark on my body with a heroic tale of bravery or adventure tied to it. Sometimes when people ask me how I hurt myself when the injury is still fresh and noticeable I'm very tempted to just make something up so that I'll feel less silly....Picture this conversation between myself and an acquaintance of mine:

ACQUAINTANCE: Oh! Kiera! (noticing a HUGE bloody looking gash on the back of my hand) What did you do? That looks so painful!
ME: (thinking, "Oh great. She thinks that I punched through a window in a fire-y building to rescue a baby or something....Maybe I should just say that's what I did....) Um....(trying to think of something believable but not as embarrassing as the truth...)...well...I....uh....(finally feeling resigned--pwned by inability to lie)...You see there was this read-a-thon.
ACQUAINTANCE: ....?

And that's when I lose all the sympathy that my audience felt for me. Alas, that is how my injuries always are.

The moral of the story here is, of course, to do lots of dangerous stunt-like things because you will not get hurt--and if you do, face it: you'll have a heck of a better story than, "Well...you see, there was this read-a-thon." And anyway, if you attempt to avoid catastrophe, it will only seek you out. And now I'm off to go bungi-jumping, I guess.

* I do not actually have a "dark past", but I felt it was a good descriptive to keep my readers interested. Did it work?

Under-Appreciated Vocabulary Word of the Day:
ubiquitous (adj): seemingly present everywhere at the same time