I had big plans for my 18th birthday. I was going on an all day shopping trip, spending my hard-earned money without cringing. I was going to spend the whole day with my two best friends, then end it with a late-night meal at the Starlight Diner, walking in after 11 simply because I finally could. I also contemplating getting my ear pierced (much less permanent than a tattoo!) or calling a number that claims “you must be 18 years or older to call.” Unfortunately, things did not happen quite as planned…
Instead, I spent the night before my 18th birthday snowboarding for my first time. I had an amazing time; I was much better than I had ever figured I would be. Unfortunately, I never quite got the hang of the ski lift, and after a pretty intense spill, discovered I hurt my wrist. The morning of my birthday was not spent sleeping in and indulging in a breakfast of waffles and bacon, but instead at the doctor’s office fixing my broken wrist.
The cliche “you don’t really know what you’ve got till it’s gone” certainly holds true here. I can barely write (of course I just had to fall on my right hand), hold a spoon, or do my own hair. I can only wear a few of my shirts because they just don’t fit over the cast. Getting a shower is nearly impossible. And, to be completely honest, the whole situation has put me in a permanently bad mood. I procrastinate now because that’s much easier than trying to write my homework with a cast on my hand. I can’t work out because I look absolutely ridiculous going to the Y with a cast. It takes me about twice as long to do anything.
So, no, this isn’t a complaint. I’m simply saying breaking my arm on the eve of my 18th birthday is clearly becoming my permanent downfall.
I’m glad it’s coming off February 18th.