I must admit that this outcome is largely my own fault and I’m aware that I’m hyperbolizing the issue.. albeit slightly.
This story starts back in October when I was out visiting the Western Region of our country and spent an evening catching up with my old friend, we’ll call her Bella (just for consistency, right Jillian?).
‘Catching up with friends’ to me generally equals having dinner and then getting bombed to the point that I can’t remember our ‘catch up’ – which is as dumb as its sounds, but true nevertheless. This particular evening didn’t appear to be anything different from the outset, and it wasn’t. Bella made me a wonderful dinner and then we hit the VanCity nightlife. The usual nonsense ensued – our friend Pierre taking his shirt off at the bar and us man-handling him, me getting far too wound up when I saw a pair of huskies, and far FAR too many shots – par for the course if you ask me.
We spilled out of the bar at an early hour in the morning and started heading home. En route back to the apartment, we come across a crowd gathered in the street. Apparently some poor biker had been hit by a taxi, that then took off – ambulances had just arrived. I, of course, decide she’s faking it and make some unqualified comments about her condition. I’ve been known to tragically underestimate my own injuries, but that’s for another story.
Bella convinces me that the Paramedics have the situation under control and we start to head home.. along a sidewalk.. with little in between us and the sanctity of her apartment. Wrong. Out of nowhere I decide to head face first into the pavement. There was NOTHING for me to trip on but my own two feet – Not shocking. After a bit of whinging, Bella convinces me that I’m ok and we just need to get home. I try to disguise my limp.
We arrive at the apartment and assess the damage, which is far worse than Bella was prepared for! My left knee had a gaping hole in it and was bleeding down into my shoe, my right hand had a large pebble actually lodge under the skin, my chin was scraped and I appeared to have CHIPPED A TOOTH! Really, at 28 don’t you expect yourself to have moved beyond the absolute train wreck phase of life? Not Nancy!
Poor Bella scavenges through her apartment looking for any first aid gear, and then cleans me up as best she can. Upon reflection, and the scarring to prove it, I probably needed stitches in my knee. Oh well – injured Pride more than anything.
Well fast forward to yesterday, May 3rd 2011 – I finally have my appointment at the dentist (the chip was really not that bad). After about forty minutes of work, I’m free to check out my newly capped teeth – I just about cried. I have really tiny teeth, a condition actually known as Microdentia, but I now have two big ol’ chompers right smack in the middle! I honestly look like a rabbit – especially when I make a Rabbit face and add bunny ears for effect.
To make matters worse, my sister Sandy has decided to send me the most unflattering buck teeth photos she can find on the internet.
I guess now I have an excuse to go on an all salad diet?