Spy Stories Can Be Accidental

Well, another milestone yesterday. For no reason--no soap, no hurrying--I slipped and fell in my roomy wet shower. In Florida, land of the old, you hear stories/news of so-and-so falling in their tub/shower and had to call emergency all the time. It's a normal thing here. Old age=falls down in shower. But now it's ME. Arghhhh! I'm officially a Floridian ;-).

I'm not hurt, just my pride, so nothing to worry about. Huge purple and green bruise to show off. Usually, it's from a flying shingle, or from the usual roofing activity of climbing up a ledge and bumping into it at some odd angle, or from some two by four that decides to stick itself into my leg. But this time, I had to explain...umm...I fell in the shower. Imagine the look on Ranger Buddy's face.

It's not as good a bruise story as my ten-speed vagina bruise, another real embarrassing Gennita fall. What, you want to hear about my ten-speed vagina bruise? ;-) It's not pretty. The story, I mean.

It was my 19th birthday. I had never ridden on a bicycle (hey, I was a rich kid being chauffeured all over the place in my country, okay?). Anyway, my then boyfriend always went for bike rides with his entire family on Saturday. So he decided to take one of his older bikes, readjust, clean, and give it to me for a birthday present. It was a really sweet gesture because he wanted me to be with him on these little family get-togethers.

So with trepidation, I put on my helmet and proceeded to ride this bike that was just a little too high for me, so I couldn't really put my feet on the ground. But I was not one to think about these things, I just started pedaling. It wasn't bad...I fell down a couple of times but I managed to stay on the bike and sort of weave-pedaled after the entire family.

I didn't know anything about gears and Ohio was a very, very HILLY state. When we reached the bike path by the river, my boyfriend's mother said I needed to go on neutral for some reason (can't remember...it's been decades). She shifted the gear for me and I raced after the others as their bikes went down this loooong path (you know how you don't need to pedal when you're going down fast? Like sorta rest your feet and you balance yourself as the bicycle makes that weird chain-rolling sound?)

Well, umm, that happened to me for about five seconds. All of a sudden (of course it was all of a sudden!), my bike veered off the path and started going down the embankment. Toward the river. I was on neutral gear. Pedaling? Whazzat? I was too busy screaming. I vaguely heard others screaming around me (yes, there were about a million other bikers witnessing my birthday incident). I saw the river coming at me. I thought of jumping off but this was a man's bike and the bar was in the way. I lurched forward. The bike hit a rock or something and my whole body jumped up. And fell really hard. On. To. The. Bar. Then I SLID down this bar and slammed unmentionable parts of my body against the front of the bike.

That stopped the bike because it was sort of on top of me by then. At least I stopped before reaching the water or I would have been wet too.

The pain was, shall I say, unforgettable??? I must have lay there for a good fifteen minutes. Then I very, very slowly got up, picked up my birthday present, and tried to climb up the embankment on my own. I could barely walk, and to make it worse, I had to wheel the darn bike home! I was wearing my shorts and already the bruises were showing, starting with red. Needless to say, I walked Very Gingerly, with my boyfriend mumbling to me all the way.

"I guess you won't be riding this bike again, huh?" he asked.

I didn't say anything. I didn't feel like saying "Of course I will, honey. I love riding bicycles!"

Anyway, of course he reported to his mom where and how much I was bruised (This was a premonition of our future together. I'm soooo glad I didn't marry this man.) The whole family got to hear this and started teasing me about my ten-speed vagina. My old boyfriend's family, as you can tell, was very weird.

Anyway, that bruise was spectacular. It started from just below my panty line and spreaded across the hip bone down to my upper thighs. One huge mottled purply-green-red-orange bruise. I had my revenge, though. I walked to classes with my boyfriend. Every time I wore shorts for the next three weeks and guys looked at me, I told them in my wide-eye Asian "don't know why I couldn't say it out loud" voice that my boyfriend gave me those bruises there on my birthday.

Hey, a ten-speed vagina's got to make her own legend!

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