they always say that on Lifetime movies...

I have a thing for long skirts. Love them, own more than I should. One particular number, a gray-blue swishy number, is a bit too long for me, even with the addition of heeled sandals, But as long as I have a hand free to grab a handful of fabric when I go up the stairs, it's no biggie.

Last week, I'm wearing said skirt, hiking up the stairs with my hands full of gak. And step on the front of my skirt. And land on my upper arm, while dropping the f-bomb at full voice in the atrium of my office building, my intern looking down on me in alarm. My finest hour, certainly.



Here it is, after a week. It's ugly, but can I tell you how much better it looks now? omg.

But here's the thing: Hubby and I went on that little overnight jaunt to the beach for the 4th. And I wore a tank top, because that's all I brought along.

People on the street would not meet my husband's eyes. They saw a larger, strapping guy, a girl who's significantly smaller with a large, mottled-purple bruise on her arm, and assumed the worst. The irony is, if you know my hubby you know how gentle he is - he's a total softie.

I ended up buying a hoodie to wear, just to hide my arm.

But now it's back to work, is supposed to be in the upper 90-degree range, and I only own short sleeves and tanks. People will have to deal with my yellow-green arm. (Maybe I should try to match the outfit to the bruise?)

And if someone stares? Well, I'll just tell 'em how good I look compared to the other guy...

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