Not Prada. Skinny jeans. I am convinced that these supposed fashion staples were in fact conceived and manufactured in lair of an evil mastermind. I fail to take responsiblity for the fact that I had a baby nine months ago and I'm fat. I refuse to acknowladge the known fact that I am probably one of the clumsiest people to ever live. These jeans must be stopped. Let me elaborate.
Sunday night was going well. We had a few of Adam's friends over and I was sporting my skinny jeans. (I had aboslutely no issues getting these things on by the way) I had to admit I was looking snazzy. After a fun night hanging out his friends left and it was time for bed. (Cue stereotypical western-show-down theme music) I went to our room and started to get undressed. Uh oh. Issues. As I put my leg up in attempts to remove what I now lovingly refer to as the "devil pants" I got tangled. I mean I got tangled bad. Its close to impossible to remove your foot from the tiny opening at the bottom of the devil pants and so as I pulled and my foot didn't come through as it should've, I lost my balance. When I say "lost my balance", I mean I feel completely backwards and slammed my head on our bedroom door. Of course the hubs immediately comes running in to check on me. Must've been quite the site. Me. One naked leg. The other hopelessly tangled in a disarray of demon fabric. He heard the thud and then put two and two together - and laughed. As I reached for the back of my head and started pouting about how badly , number one, I hate these damn pants, and, number two how horribly my head hurt. He then went from ass wipe to sweetheart and helped me up and asked if I was ok and if he could do anything. I said no and just went to bed.
I awoke the next morning and couldn't believe how bad I felt. I expected the headache - but the stabbing pain? Man, it was rough. Well, then I started feeling REALLY neauseous (ok is it just me or is that the hardest word in the whole freakin' English language to spell??) Anyway, I didn't think too much of it. I had taco soup the previous night for dinner. Taco soup. beans. You do the math. Anyway, pushed is aside along with a few doses of Tylenol.
Then, Tuesday rolls around. Time for work. I woke that morning with horrible head pain and was surprisingly dizzy trying to walk to the bathroom. I made some toast (as my stomach wasn't feeling too great) and couldn't even eat it. One bite and I had had enough. Got dressed and went to work.
However, all my symptoms just kept getting worse throughout the day and to top it all off, I was TIRED!!! I mean, like, crazy tired. I called my mom during lunch and after telling her of my spill she frantically told me I needed to get to the ER ASAP. I thought about it and decided that would probably be best. With my luck I'd have a bleeding brain and kill over before I could even make it back to Starkvegas.
Got to the ER and had PLENTY of time to fabricate my tale of heroism and subsequent head injury. "Well, doctor, I saw a puppy running into the road to catch a man who had just stolen a little old lady's purse while she was helping a mother whose baby stroller had rolled away from her. I knew I had to take action. I quickly ran into the road, caught the purse snatcher, picked up the puppy, and stopped the roll away stroller.... however, a car hit me. Small price to pay for saving a puppy, little old lady, and a mother and her baby though." Oh yeah. That was it. The truth of "well, I fell whil attempting to remove my fat ass from a pair of skinny jeans" never crossed my mind.
I'm such a softy. When "mam-could-you-describe-your-accident" time came, I couldn't lie. I told them straight. I'm a clumsy idiot and need to be kept away from all sharp and pointy objects. Anyway, diagnosis? Concussion. What the crap? Is that code for dying? Let me just say, I had never been the athletic type and therefore have never sustained any major injury of any sort. To me, a concussion was something that knocked you out and made your brain bleed and explode. Uh, not fun. He assured me that it was fine and my CT looked normal. He said I just needed to take it easy for a few days and refrain from any physical activity. and skinny jeans. and heels. Thanks, doc.
All in all it was a grand experience. I have now equaled the likes of football greats and can check "concussion" off my major injury list. Yay.
On a lighter note, I have to say the hubs has been super sweet. I wasn't feeling well last night and ended up falling asleep on the couch as Adam worked on his school stuff. I awoke about 2:30am to find my sweet man curled up on a pallet on the floor beside me. He heard me move and looked up to see if I was ok...
brain-dead wife - "honey, what in the world are you doing down there on the floor?"
sweet hubs - "well, I didn't want to wake you to come to bed... and I wanted to be close to you in case you woke up. I wanted to be here in case you needed anything and I didn't want you to wake up alone."
Are you serious?? Men like this exist - and I married one? Lucky clumsy me! Have a great week everyone!!!