My family is not known for being graceful. Especially the girls. I think all us girls could tell tales of getting hurt, maimed, or damaged doing something a normal person would deem safe. In junior high, I was innocently walking down the sidewalk when the force of gravity pulled me off balance and threw me onto a piece of glass with my legs tangled under me. (remember the giraffe image??) My right foot was sliced open to the bone. I had seven stitches sewn in the top of my foot by a hairy man wearing a large golden medallion. I think he washed his hands…. When people asked me how I got injured, it was just too embarrassing to say “I fell off the sidewalk”, so I would make up stories. Some days it included kicking a knife from a would be murder’s hand, other days it would involve a bullet grazing my foot as I lept over a shopping cart to shield a baby from attack. It really depended on my mood.
Normal life can just be too boring at times for some people, like me. People don’t want to hear about how I sat for six hours in the car waiting for my dry cleaning to get finished in time for a wedding. They would much rather hear about how I single-handedly kept a dying business from going under by my shrewd management skills and ingenuity. (gave them business) Truth be told, my life is just ordinary. I go to work (sometimes), cook dinner (rarely), do my laundry ( not nearly often enough), and pay my bills (sometimes on time). I haven’t been offered a modeling job as I walked through the mall, I haven’t stopped a speeding bullet with my teeth, and I haven’t written a best seller (yet).
I do like to think I put my own special twist on the otherwise boring-ness of my life. Just the other night I traveled to another dimension of pain as I watched Studio C with my son. It wasn’t because the show was bad, no no…the show is brilliant! It was because I have what my daughter calls the ‘fire mouth.’ I simply refuse to wait for food to cool before I eat it. I may or may not have an actual roof in my mouth any more, but I like my food really hot. And sometimes spicy.
I was eating some kettle corn, piping hot from the microwave, with my son. I must have been chucking it in pretty fast because I suddenly felt the searing pain of burning flesh on my uvula. Yeah, I know, you didn’t know you have feeling nerves on there either I bet. I know it was my uvula because it wasn’t my tongue and it wasn’t the back of my throat, and it was kind of a ‘hanging pain.’ I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t move, my eyes started watering, and I didn’t know if I should cough, get a drink, or make my last confession. The pain/panic lasted a good ten seconds before I decided not to ‘go into the light.’ My son, bless his heart, was not disturbed by my near death experience at all. He continued to laugh at the Superman skit. (it is one of their best).
So, at this point the question is…do I blatantly deny ever having burned a hole through my uvula with a hot popcorn kernel? Or is this something to brag about? I’m not really sure where that “line” is. I honestly can’t say I’ve ever heard of anyone that did anything with that part of their body, except my mom….who cut hers out with pinking shears to help her sleep(not true). Maybe I should claim I pierced it? Did it myself with a rusty ol piece of corn. Whoa, that would make me sound really tough….and a bit like I belonged on Duck Dynasty. Hmmm the problems that plague the ‘ordinary wishing to be extraordinary…’
Guess I’ll just ponder on it while I sip cool drinks and keep reminding myself that I don’t have strep throat, I just have a burnt uvula. Cause I said so.
Photo credit: http://www.queenlacie.com