How embarrassing it is to fall on my knees near a bus stop during morning peak hour. A fortunate thing, I was with my mom. If not, how would I help my pathetic self up, a bleeding knee and a silly hole on my pants?
To be able to cuss and whine about the seering pain and the damn pants to my mom, seems not as pitiable as compared to muttering to oneself as you try to pick yourself up clumsily after staying on the ground on your fours for a while (because no one came to help you up but looked on at a safe distance - gloating that someone else has a very wretched day, feeling better about themselves already), getting over the initial shock that you are, yet again, alone in another situation where you want to jump down the manhole just next to your hand. It did help that my mom was tooting after me and checking if I was bleeding badly at my knees under my torn lousy pants. Took a hell lot of the initial embarrassment away.
I curse my pants – that grey baggy unhemmed pants that reminded me of Dumbo’s ears. I am going to cut you! Half!
Gave me the excuse to shop for a new pair of pants during lunch. That, I am not complaining. What, it’s a very valid excus... I mean, reason.
On the side-note, I don’t know if I’m sado-masochist or what. I kind of miss the feeling of ache and pain. It probably triggered memories of the ache I get from body combat and mere exercise. Crazy? Yeah, I think so. Awch.
To be able to cuss and whine about the seering pain and the damn pants to my mom, seems not as pitiable as compared to muttering to oneself as you try to pick yourself up clumsily after staying on the ground on your fours for a while (because no one came to help you up but looked on at a safe distance - gloating that someone else has a very wretched day, feeling better about themselves already), getting over the initial shock that you are, yet again, alone in another situation where you want to jump down the manhole just next to your hand. It did help that my mom was tooting after me and checking if I was bleeding badly at my knees under my torn lousy pants. Took a hell lot of the initial embarrassment away.
I curse my pants – that grey baggy unhemmed pants that reminded me of Dumbo’s ears. I am going to cut you! Half!
Gave me the excuse to shop for a new pair of pants during lunch. That, I am not complaining. What, it’s a very valid excus... I mean, reason.
On the side-note, I don’t know if I’m sado-masochist or what. I kind of miss the feeling of ache and pain. It probably triggered memories of the ache I get from body combat and mere exercise. Crazy? Yeah, I think so. Awch.
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