Sunday, 20 December 2015

Pad and tampon pity party

Let me set the scene.

- You've just signed your very first lease for your very first unit. Sure it's small, overpriced, and a bit crap but it's all yours!

- You are so excited you race down the real estate stairs holding your new lease and fumble around for your phone, because naturally this is a momentous #selfie moment that needs immediate documentation, and BAM you go down.

- You sit at the bottom of the stairs, a bit confused, in the main street of your town hoping no one saw your epic fail. Your bag has spewed it's contents all over the footpath. There are pads and tampons everywhere. People are stepping over said contents as well has your favourite Ted Baker ballet flats and new Ray Bans sunnies.

- You make an attempt to stand up and gather your things and realise you can't walk. Shit.

- Then "oh hi real estate receptionist, yeah could you please grab my pads and tampons, yeah thanks great". Oh god.

- Place urgent call to mum to rescue you.

- Ankle appears lumpy, deformed, and grapefruit sized.

- "Don't mind me passers by! Just crying to myself in the middle of the footpath. Please continue to awkwardly avoid eye contact and step over me".

- Mum arrives! More crying "Mummy I am definitely dying!"

- Trip to emergency room.

- Sit in wheel chair for 5 hours feeling sorry for self.

- Doctor's name is Niall, unfortunately not 1D's Niall Horan he does not appear to moon light as an ER doctor, however name is very satisfying regardless.

- The verdict Dr. Niall? 1x broken ankle. 1x pink cast. 6x weeks no walking.

- Merry Christmas.


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