some people think this blog is a narcissistic vanity mirror attended to by simpering dittohead sycophants. to those people i say, ppppffhhhhh.
when i was fourteen i broke my pelvis. no, i didn’t break it having sex. i was fourteen, you sick fuck, get your mind out of the gutter.
being the spoiled little princess i was, my mom used to throw parties at our house in houston for all my friends. so we were at my valentine’s day party. i was wearing a pretty pink skirt and espadrille sandals. my friends were all there – except erin. i don’t think erin liked me very much at the time. so there we were, all dancing and having a good time, listening to the counting crows or something very similar, perhaps gin blossoms, and i since i was getting revved to join the drill team*, some friends and i were practicing our moves. by practicing moves i mean, dancing around like barbie-doll idiot-heads.
i decided to show off my jump splits. i decided to do this in socks. on a hardwood floor. without warming up. so there. i did them. i did my jump splits.
and when i landed, i couldn’t get up. when i finally was hoisted out of this incredibly ignoble position and laid out on the couch, i realized i couldn’t really walk, either. the back of my left leg, the front leg, was in ripping, searing pain. so i walked up and down the room a couple times, leaning on friends, being very dramatic indeed. i was, in my defense, in quite a lot of pain. i couldn’t put any weight on my left leg at all. my mother was clucking and frantic, wanting to take me to the hospital. feeling like i’d made pretty much enough of a fool of myself over a pulled hamstring, i refused, and spent the rest of the night on the couch, attending to by the reigning brainless simpering boyfriend du jour, whoever he was.
two months later, i persisted in refusing any kind of medical evaluation, even though i was still somewhat limping. i was convinced it was a pulled hamstring. my friends started calling me a drama queen, which, while usually pretty accurate, didn’t apply in this case. i was still limping because it still hurt to stretch my leg at all.
so finally my mother dragged me to the doctor. they did an x-ray. and this is how the conversation went:
doctor: you have a fractured pelvis.
mother: i knew it!
me: a what?
doctor: your pelvis. when you fell, the part of your pelvis that the hamstring is attached to, well, you pulled that muscle so hard you fractured the pelvis bone. there’s a fissure split there, where a 2 inch piece dislodged.
me: a what?
mother: i knew it!
doctor: well, it healed back.
me: see? no harm, no foul.
doctor: but it healed back wrong.
mother: i knew it!
doctor: it’s just – it’s just not exactly in the right place. your hamstring is slightly twisted as a result.
mother: i knew it!
me: so what?
doctor: *shrugs* so nothing. nothing you can do now.
mother: i knew it!
that’s how i fractured my pelvis. what’s your most embarassing injury?
* i was on drill team. more on this later. there will be pictures, however. generally, the uniforms looked like this. seriously, folks. i’m laying it all out on the table here. the white lycra outfits, the stupid tiny skirts, the sequins, the red lipstick, the bouncing ponytail, the conformism, the fascist drill director, the shrieking hysterical girls … i’m not saying i liked it all that much, but i was on drill team.

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