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A Suburban Housewife, A Fight and A Black Eye

I have a black eye. I’ve lived almost 44 years without ever getting into a fight. But I guess every streak must come to an end.

To be fair, I was provoked.

I am a peace loving, kind, nurturing individual who just likes to knit. Confrontation scares me. I usually flee from confrontation. Literally. It’s why I’m training. I enter races so that I can tell people I’m training for the Pixie Dust Challenge. Really, I just want to be able to run 3.1 miles away from confrontation really, really fast. Actually, I interval run with walking due to my knack for injuring my feet just by using them.  And I get a medal when I run the race. It’s brilliant, actually. I train to run from confrontation and get a medal for my cowardice. The perfect set up. And because I’m running on Mother’s Day, I’m getting a medal for being a Mom.

Essentially, I get three medals for being a run/walking, cowardice mother.

(This is probably a good place to advertise for my side business of being a life coach.   Email me to set up an appointment.)

The fact I had a fight and obviously lost it is incredible. I’ve been training off and on for the last four years to NEVER get in this situation.

But everyone knows that no matter how hard you plan for something to or not to happen, you can’t guarantee anything in life. A HUGE flaw in life, if you ask me. And usually I just end up in casinos buying shoes like a normal person. But this time life decided to be in control.

And that’s how I found myself on a bright Saturday morning, minding my own business, getting ready to go skiing, probably humming a nice song like “Amazing Grace” to myself while thinking happy thoughts about fairies, when my arch enemy decided to take action and just wallop me.

In all fairness, I guess I helped.

I don’t know how you feel about bathroom doors, but I think they are mean and cruel and choose to partially shut just when you’re turning your head to leave them. Yes, I’m the one who ran into the door, but the door purposefully closed just enough so I got the corner of it above my eye. I know it did. After I slammed my head into it and the tears stopped falling and the ringing in my ears faded, I heard it laugh.

It was an evil laugh. Thinking about it now makes me shiver.

So now I have a black eye. Not a huge one, but enough for me to need to embellish my story of running into a bathroom door so that it isn’t a story of clumsiness but instead becomes a story of a run/walking, cowardice mother just trying to join her loving family on the ski hill when the big, evil, mean door decides to slightly close causing me to need to lie down for a bit with an ice pack on my head.

But I had the last laugh. I’ve removed all bathroom doors in my house.

Marianne's Black Eye

I admit I don’t look like Rocky after he boxed Apollo the first time. I have much better brows.

Who’s feeling stupid now, Bathroom Door? Huh? Who?

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