A history of unfortunate misadventures

I cracked my toe on a metal bar and fractured it on Saturday. Result: strange grey sausagey looking toe and a lot of difficulty walking. Secondary result: a sore butt from sitting too long in one position with my foot elevated. Tertiary result: a strange desire to exercise. Hmm, perhaps I should fracture my toe more often. Who knew this would be a motivation for exercise?

So anyway I thought it might be a good opportunity to list my history of misadventures. My close friends have heard these stories many times but they've never been documented, so here goes:

At around age 3-4, still in Korea, I fell over onto broken glass and cut my chin, requiring three stitches. I still have the scars to prove it.

Age 6: as the younger sister I was forced to sleep in the bottom bunk, as usual. Somehow the double bunk wasn't as sturdy as my parents thoughts (Ikea, anyone?) and my sister's top bunk fell on top of me during the night. She proceeded to STAY ON THE BED ON TOP OF ME and wail at the top of her lungs while I politely asked her to get off me. At least that's how I remember it. I still have the staple scar on my forehead to prove it.

Age 7-8: We attended an engagement party at someone's house and all the kids were climbing up to the half-storey balcony. I was the youngest and wanted to fit in, so I climbed up too... then cheered for victory when I got to the top by raising my arms. Big mistake. I fell splat on my face on the concrete below, split my lip and and dislodged my two front teeth.

The next day: My dad was taking me to the dentist and I was in the backseat next to my siblings. I was next to the door, which I evidently hadn't closed properly. We turned a sharp corner, the door flew open and I fell out of the car. To this day I remember being dragged along the ground by my face, the bottom half of my body still in the car until my dad slammed on the brakes.

Age 11: Rollerskates! Yay! Result: fractured wrist.

Also age 11: Learned to play newcomball (is that how you spell it? I've never heard of it since primary school), except my hand-eye-coordination is average at best. Result: fractured finger. Middle finger. I still remember the kids going 'Eerr, guess what you've been doing!' and it took me YEARS (until my twenties in fact) to understand what they were going on about. Dirty kids.

Age 13: We never had a bicycle so I never learned to ride as a child (to this day I still can't turn right on a bike). When my sister's friend got a new bike for Christmas, we inherited her old one, with its broken rusty spoke and all. How hard could it be to learn to ride, right? So I took it up to the top of our steep street, straddled the seat, held my legs out stiffly on either side and rode that sucker. All the way down. Until I got the end of the cul de sac. At which point I realised I didn't know how to stop. Result: face plant and rusty spoke in my calf, lots of blood and visible bone. Gross.

Age 26: Running down the steps at a church camp, I fell over and twisted my foot. Turned out that I'd actually fractured two bones. I couldn't walk on it, so two friends on either side of me were helping me down some other steps the next day, when I slipped on some water and fractured the other foot. Lots of fun, especially trying to get into the apartment - my flatmate and I had to accost a perfect stranger off the street to carry me from the car to our apartment.

It's been a relatively event-free past few years aside from some minor spills, grazed knees and cut fingers (oh the joy of learning to cook).

So let me put forth this post as my official case for upgrading my status to urgent should science finally work out how to morph human bones with adamantium. I figure if it worked for Wolverine, it could work for me.