Miss Jacki, what happened to your leg

Every day when I walk to work, the gate guards stop me and ask “Miss Jacki, what happened to your leg? Are you hurt?” Every day, I laugh and say, nope. I’m fine. They look at me confused and kind of tilt their heads “But then why do you walk so funny?”

I don’t tell them why. It’s hard to explain to someone who does speak English, let alone explain to someone who doesn’t speak English as their native language, that I accidentally sat on my own straightner. My own hair straightner that I had turned on to 430 degrees and then gently set on my bed just moments before it collided with my bum.

Well, that’s not technically correct. It would probably be more accurate to say that it collided with my upper left leg, right where the leg and bum meet. Bum. That’s a stupid word and I’m not sure why I’m using it.

Regardless, this happened a week or two weeks ago, I’m not really sure anymore. And ever since then I’ve had to exert caution as I complete the simplest tasks, like walking to and from work, going to the bathroom (can’t sit normal on the toilet seat for fear that my laceration will come in contact with the thousands of other things that have touched the toilet). For awhile, when I sat the wrong way in my desk chair (that is, I didn’t sit on my right hip), my laceration would meld with my pants, which would stick to my chair… and I would have to carefully separate my pants from my chair and then my pants from my laceration (what I call it so I don’t have to say my self-inflicted burn).

My own father has taken it upon himself to mercilessly mock my new strut, as he drags one leg and then hops a little. My colleagues watch as I slowly shift out of my seat, impatiently waiting for my laceration and pants to separate from their warm embrace. I’m sorry to interrupt their romantic moment, but I’ve got things I need to do. Even in the shower room, I get questions. I’m not sure why their eyes are averted to a place so near my bum (there I go again with that word), or how to answer. They just wouldn’t understand…

I can’t quite explain how I burned myself so far up on my leg (I was wearing shorts) or how I could have been so absentminded. I’d like to attribute that to my old age. I feel like it’s a valid excuse.

I guess if the worst wound I get here is from a hair straightner, I’m probably doing alright…

<3 Jacki

P.S. On a completely unrelated note, I just looked at my makeshift countdown (It’s on my computer and it’s called the donut of misery). I have approximately 77.56 days left here give or take, probably give.