I know, I know, I know – you already KNOW that Roller Derby girls are bad ass. But please keep reading anyway.
Two weeks ago I had the honor of being introduced to a group of Roller Derby women by a friend of my equally bad ass sister. This group of women was truely wonderful. Talkative, fun, potty mouthed, tattoed – but equally kind, funny and engaging.
I was smitten. I can’t lie. These were the “cool girls” of adulthood. *sigh*
I just kept thinking, “These women are awesome. AND – they could totally take me. Must. Make. Friends.”
(Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.)
So, I KNOW that Derby is rough and tumble. Only “big girls” who can take their lumps all while being both girlied (is that even a word?) up and supremely athletic may take part. I immediately discounted myself to spectator, as I’m wimpy (and let’s face it – not althletic either).
Enter today. Today I went with my sister (who is also bad ass, athletic and girlied-up) and brother to take my two nieces and nephew to open skate at a nearby roller rink. We needed the three adults to care for a baby and three and a four year old. The one-to-one ratio was a MUST. All was going well. The two older kids were on and off the rink while the baby watched everyone either glide or shuffle by, depending on their skill ability. At one point, only my brother and I were “whizzing” around the rink in all our glory when I totally bit it.
I bit it HARD.
You know the type – everything goes into slow motion?
I instantly knew I was going to hit the ground. Then I saw both feet in front of me when I was on my way down and could only think, “Oh, this is going to SUCK.” I hit hard. I knocked my watch right off my wrist. When my brother came by to see if I was okay my instant response was, “I think I broke something.”
Nope. I’m pretty sure I’m just bruised up. It’s been several hours. My right wrist is popping each time I move my hand. It sounds like a microwave is popping corn as I type this blog. My tailbone is pissed at me and reminds me with a constant ache. As I was gimping along this evening to the shower all I could think was, “Those Derby Girls are so much more bad ass than I ever imagined. RESPECT. Ouchie….”
(This is immediately followed by thoughts of getting old and wishing I were shorter so my butt would have had less time to gain momentum before smacking against the rink. Wimpiness thoughts were also involved.)
At the end of the afternoon as we were doing a combo of limping out of the rink and wrangling two young kids I happened to run into the great women I met two weeks ago. I mentioned to one that I bit it during the skate.
She had the courtesty not to laugh.
After a sleepless night and increasing pain I visited my doc. Broken wrist! I’m currently “enjoying” the first broken bone and cast of my life. The countdown to get use of both opposable thumbs again has started!