Swimming Dangerously

When I was a little girl, my nickname was "Grace."

I thought it was a beautiful name, and I was pretty sure I was nicknamed this because of how fluidly I moved and walked, and how elegant I surely was.

To confirm this, as well as fishing for a compliment, I finally asked my parents, "Why do you call me 'Grace'?"

My parents quickly answered, "Irony."

Once I finally figured out what "irony" meant - I was pretty disheartened.

However, I must confess...grace is something I really do lack; always have, and always probably will.

Tripping...falling...stumbling...are pretty much my norm.

Take today, for instance....

I suffered a very traumatic and painful injury this afternoon...leaving me hobbling and limping along with a grimace and a cuss word with every step...

...I broke my big toe.

Yup. Broke it pretty good, if bruising and swelling are any indicators. As well as pain.

And how did I do this?

Wait for it.

I was....

...swimming.

Yes. I was doing laps in the pool, and I had turned at the wall and was doing a kick-out...when I kicked the wall. Concrete does not give very much when kicked by a toe.

Owie. (Only I said a few words much worse than "owie." Go figure.)

Daughter and I are heading to Disney World on Tuesday, and I now get to hobble around with a broken toe. Brought on by swimming.

Please tell me I'm not the only person ever - in the history of man - that has broken a toe by swimming??

Peace.