One of these days I'm gonna forget how many of these I've written and have to stop numbering them. But until then, the cheesy titles remain!
Throwback to elementary school (look at me being all caught up with the current trends, tbt-ing and jazz, I'm so cute); It's recess in spring and playing outside is the greatest. I remember I was wearing some stretchy type legging pants, probably a dark navy blue or maybe a brown and a loose cotton shirt. Fashion was obviously very important to me at such a young age.
You know it, NPH.
Anyway, anyone else imagine they are a secrety-awesome agent of awesome and can do all those cool evasive maneuvers and defy physics simply because they're awesome?
Yeah, me too.
You see where this is going yet?
I was, for whatever reason, on a patio type area with a ramp down to the lot where the playground was located. There was some friendly teasing going on and people blocking my way down the ramp football style. So I took to the ramp railing, sat my butt down on the patio overhang and attempted to swing myself through the bottom of the railing and down to the pavement below.
Minimal arm strength plus plain ole physics rendered me bent awkwardly under the railing, toes brushing against the ground, just out of reach. My shirt had scrunched up over my belly from sliding along the concrete as well as grating against my bare back in raking scratches that now stung along with my injured pride.
Do I pull myself up? Okay, that's apparently not possible. Thanks again weak arms. I appreciate the help.
Do I try and readjust my shirt? No, I'm still awkwardly half laying, half standing against the concrete.
I have to continue sliding along the concrete edge, mangling my back even further, exposing myself even more and try not to cry from humiliation and pain.
Needless to say, I had a hard time sitting back in my chair for the rest of the day and never went near those railings ever again.
Also, I'm not a ninja.