Oooh! FACE!

Okay, so do you guys remember yesterday when I was all haughty and proud of myself for neglecting tedious, but necessary, tasks around the house? I was all "Who CARES if I sit around on the couch all day? I'm not HURTING anyone, am I?" Well, color me pwned. This morning, back in full swing of a work week, I woke up when it was still dark out. I finished getting ready and was on my way out of my room so I turned off the light, then remembered I needed my purse. I started to feel around for it in the pitch black room, when I tripped on a pair of jeans tossed on the ground, and SLAMMED my face into my door. "Slammed" as in: Ran into it at full speed, square in the kisser. That's right, people. The person I ended up hurting by my laziness, was in fact, MYSELF. And consider it a lesson learned, because my face still hurts (Well it's KILLING ME!) and the developing egg above my eyebrow is just noticeable enough to make me clean my stupes room out of fear that it will happen again.

How totally appropriate, don't you think? I was all parading around on my high horse because I hadn't had ONE major accident in 2010, which is quite a feat when you're as clutzy as I am. Then BAM! Face in a door. And not even like the front or back of the door. No, my face went smack into the side - that one inch death trap. I felt like a Looney Tunes character, what with all the stars I was seeing.

As my friend Allyson helpfully pointed out though, at least my latest face injury is not the worst. A few years back, I tripped on one of those enormous IKEA bags on the floor of my room (Seriously?! When will I learn to just keep my room clean?!) and skidded my face on the carpet. I had HUGE rug burns on the right side of my face. It was all scabby and gross. Gnarlesville. When I left my job at a magazine shortly afterwards, the staff made a mock up of an issue, with my mangled face on the cover, giving a big ol' thumbs up. I still keep it in my room because, well, it's pretty hysterical.

I suppose I can track all this crazy face-violence back to when I was about 5 years old. I was at the pool. My mom was wrangling us five kids to get home, but of course I was dawdling, eating ants or something. My mom said "Pharon! Come on! We're LEAVING!" She wrapped an enormous towel around me and I padded after her as fast as I could. Kids? There is a reason they tell you not to run at the pool. My bare feet were no match for the slippery cement, and, duh, I slipped. I crashed down, face-first on the cement. My arms were wrapped in my towel, so I just toppled over. I ripped up my chin, and I still have a teeny scar to prove it.

So, I guess in the grand scheme of all my facial mishaps, this latest one isn't so bad. There's no blood, no need for stitches. Nah, it's actually pretty minor. But frazzle! It hurt so freaky bad. It was the kind of pain that it takes like 3 full seconds to actually register in your brain.

Besides spending the night cleaning my room, I also chugged like 4 glasses of milk. A girl can't have too much calcium when she needs to keep her face bones strong. And despite the promises I make to myself to be more careful, there's no telling what kind of risk I run by boldly wearing high heels in Minnesota icy winters. Though, in hindsight, none of my facial boo-boos have had anything to do with wearing heels. In fact, it's almost like when I DON'T wear heels, I leave myself open to the perils that lurk at ground level. Mix that with my natural lack of grace and we've got an accident waiting to happen, folks.

Hopefully I got my annual Injury out of the way. I'd consider it a win for me if the worst thing I have to deal with is a cartoony bonk on the face. And, this might be a neural hematoma talking, but it was pretty funny.