A couple months ago on I slipped a disc in my back. I know what you're thinking: "How the hell did she do that?!?!" In answer to your question: No I was not doing flick flacks across a slippery surface. And I was not break dancing with my fellow post men on a cardboard box outside the delivery room. I was not doing the tango with a very sexy Latino man and one of my heels broke. I didn't fall down some stairs when I was drunk. Nor did I fall off my bike trying to play the fool and showing off riding backwards. And I certainly wasn't trying to dance like Michael Jackson....well...not this time anyway...
Instead it is a very boring story. I was at work, and I simply bent over, tried to pick up a table, and instead fell to the floor writhing in agony clutching at my poor back. Not only did this happen at work. It also happened on Valentines day- only the busiest day in restaurant history the world over. I was in so much pain I nearly fainted. I strained a smile at my boss, and excused myself to go to the bathroom, where, as I tried to sit down, I experienced so much pain that I passed out. Then I woke up. Ok then I also threw up a little bit. Just a little. Luckily I managed to get off work for the rest of the day and went to the physio, who happened to be a very handsome, strapping young lad, and I cried and cried and cried and snotted all over his bed as well as the sleeve of his T-shirt. Humiliating.
This isn't the first time this has happened to me either. However the first slip of my disc is a far more entertaining story.
I was in Grade 9, an extremely awkward and ugly time for me. Not only had I finally hit puberty, 3 years later than all of my friends. I was quite chubby, I had braces that always seemed to attract very stubborn plant material, (which, by the way I chose to eat, it wasn't like I was bullied into eating grass or similar things, although, that wouldn't be a far cry either) I had mild acne, (due to the late onset of puberty) and it was also around the same time that I was nicknamed "Squirrel". I don't know why really but I think it had something to do with my unmanageable hair. Kids can be so cruel. Anyhoo, as if life wasn't heinous enough for me at that time, I had to make a mockery of myself by breaking my back in front of the entire school. So embarrassing.
It was break time and I was hanging out at the tuck shop, obviously. (Just in case some poor sucker dropped 50c, or, even better, a nik nak) Break had also just let out, so all the grades were hanging around, and we were right next to the Matric quad. (Where I had my eye on a man with very curly hair whom I dreamt about making my under aged husband. I'm glad I didn't go through with it. Our children would be very ugly and curly.) I was trying to pass the time until I struck it lucky and so, obviously, practised my Michael Jackson dance moves. I did the one where he yells "HeeHee" and jumps up and balances on the tips of his toes. It was ideal for me because I had my good ol' "Toughees" on. Good shoes they are, them Toughees. My moves were getting better and I had almost perfected it, until some dipshit behind me moved backwards and sent me flying across the quad. It was one of those falls where you run faster and faster and get closer and closer to the ground, until you've landed flat on your face, basically running into the floor. However, as my face was about 10cm from the concrete, I hit a slippery spot and suddenly wrenched backwards and fell in the gutter. As if it wasn't embarrassing enough that the whole school and all of the matrics witnessed this "accident", what made it worse was that I couldn't get up. I was stuck and momentarily paralysed. Lovely. I think my back had also already been weakened when, a couple of weeks before, I was practising popping wheelies in a wheelchair and I came short. Down a flight of stairs.
Oh well, that is my sad story of my broken back. Not that you care, but it is slowly getting better and my dreams of joining the Moscow Circus and being with my trapeze partner, Roul, once again are within reach. For now I will just have to stick with Boswell Wilkie, polishing the clown's shoes and pursuing an affair with the stable hand who has one eye and a very suspicious looking kneecap..
Did you throw up ON a church?
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