My weird childhood obsessionMay 10, 2010 at 9:05 pm | Posted in Daily Life | 7 Comments
Tags: broken bones, Childhood memories, The Clothes Show
When we are little, there are certain dreams we have – dating Corey Haim, being voted most snoggable girl in class, having a Naf Naf jacket….
Well, I wanted to break a bone.
Preferably my arm or leg.
I’m unsure quite why this was, but during my early secondary school years, I had day dreams about it. I imagined feeling no pain, my class mates overwhelmed by my bravery. When the hospital confirmed that my limb was broken in several places, they would marvel over how this little girl was coping so well.
When I returned to school (quicker than most after being through such an ordeal), everyone would want to sit next to me and hear my heroic tale. All of the popular kids would know my name and want to come and add theirs to my cast.
I still hadn’t broken a bone when my brother did. He was about 12. It was his his leg, and he broke it really quite badly whilst playing football. Unfortunately it happened the day before my mum and I were supposed to go to The Clothes Show (another childhood dream – being ‘spotted’ by the More Magazine talent scouts – shame I was 4ft nothing with freckles and wonky teeth).
So I had a full on teenager from hell rant about my brother spoiling my big day out, to which he exploded back at me about my lack of sympathy for his extreme agony and thigh high cast. That was a dark day. And from where I was standing it didn’t look very glamorous having a broken leg.
I would have to do it in far more style when my time came.
When my time finally arrived I was about 22, had a busy job and lots to do. I fell off my Irregular Choice heels turning to check a pigeon on the kerb hadn’t fallen into the path of an oncoming car. Seriously, this actually happened.
I struggled back up, dusted myself off and hobbled inside. It wasn’t until I woke at 3am with searing pain shooting down my leg that I thought something may have occurred during the pigeon rescue mission. On inspecting my ankle, the delicate bone was replaced with a huge egg.
A trip to minor injuries later, and the next morning ‘a serious sprain’ was confirmed. Not a break. A sprain. How boring was that?! AND, I wasn’t allowed to drive for two weeks! I had to keep it rested and elevated. Absence without a cast, not good.
That phone call to my boss was a tad embarrassing – ‘yes sorry boss I can’t come into work for two weeks – I fell off my heels trying to make sure a pigeon was ok and I have seriously sprained my ankle’. I was of course tasked to work from the confines of my sofa with elevated leg and laptop on a cushion while I healed.
So my injury came 10 years too late, was a kerb short of a break, and resulted in no cast, no signatures and no Little Miss Popular Girl.
Looking back, I wonder what the fascination was? Having read back over my reasons for wanting to break a bone (and with it, possibly suffer future health issues and so on), I think they were purely for attention.
What have I learnt over the years – sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me. Maybe I wanted the sticks and stones to stop the names. Who knows – who cares, I turned out happy in the end – even with fully intact limbs.
How ungrateful am I.