Anyway, so the bridal shower was a few weeks ago, and another OG looks at my right knee and says (in an appropriate way; it's cool), "I can't believe you still have that scar!"
I didn't learn to ride a bike until college, really, and even then I never got confident enough to not fall off and gash my knee open to the point of needing several stitches... a few weeks before a trip to Vegas we had planned in honor of OG #2's university graduation... in May.
Blood. Loss of consciousness. Dad and brother freaking out. It was not a pretty sight.
Even after I was patched up and bandaged, I was so embarrassed by my war wound that I insisted on long pants to hide and almost bailed on the trip. I didn't, (looking back, it mustn't have been THAT bad) but it was MAY in VEGAS. So I got sick of sweltering in jeans and finally embraced my frankenleg.
Back to the bridal shower: I begin to affirm that yes, I do, and yes it was atrocious, and yes it's still pretty bad... when she says "You ROCKED those stitches!"
Um, what's that you say? Because all I remember is the shame.
Anyway, the moral is: Rock the stitches and the bandage and the scar that follows. It's not a big deal. Or maybe it is, but honestly who cares, let alone in six years.
Or the moral is: Teach your kids to ride bikes when they're young. Even if they're stubbornly resistant and hopelessly clumsy.
Ps. It should be noted that we rented and rode bikes all around Pacific/Mission Beach on Saturday. I did not crash once.
|Like. A. Boss.|
Pps. What an awesome couple and beautiful wedding. I'm still shining from the gratitude and joy at having been included in such a special occasion.
|Are you serious with this view, cocktail hour?|
|"We go together like..."|
|Cute details abound.|
|We clean up OK.|