From your childhood, do you remember the story, “The Princess and the Pea,” by Hans Christian Andersen?
I’m here to tell you that fairy tale princess has nothing on me.
Her story goes something like this.
Once upon a time there was a handsome prince who wanted to get married, but only a princess would do. There were quite a few so-called princesses around, but the handsome prince always found something wrong with each girl.
Then one night during a violent rainstorm, a girl showed up the at the front door, drenched and bedraggled, but claiming to be a real princess.
We’ll see about that, said the prince’s staff. They placed a green pea under 20 mattresses and 20 eiderdown quilts and sent the poor girl to bed — climbing up a long ladder, of course.
The next morning, after descending from the huge pile of mattresses, the poor girl rubbed her bleary eyes and told the servants that she had been unable to sleep because a lump of something in her bed had left her bruised and sore.
There was great rejoicing in the land because a real royal princess was found, and now the handsome prince could marry his princess and they would all live happily after.
All I have to say about this story is this: If being fragile and easy to bruise is a sign of royalty, I must be a close relative of the queen of England.
And the older I get, the more royal I become.
Only a tiny bump against my hands and arms can leave me bruised and battered
I recently did painful damage to my left hand that left it torn and bleeding — not with a knife but with a bag of Kentucky Fried Chicken. It was the $20 fillup.
My efforts to drag the bag from my car caused the plastic bag to actually cut my hand.
No one believed me the next day when I tried to explain that the Colonel was to blame for the bruise and cut that left me looking like the loser from a cat fight.
My latest injury was caused by my iPhone.
No, I didn’t injure myself while taking a selfie. At age 83, selfies are to be avoided at all costs.
The injury and pain I received from my phone was caused by holding it too long.
I was visiting my son Steve at the healthcare facility where he lives. Steve is 60 and arthritis has left it difficult for him to hold small objects.
Steve loves funny cat videos, so I sat beside him holding the phone and enjoyed hearing him laugh at the antics of the cats. There are many, many cat videos on YouTube and I think we watched them all.
After about an hour of holding the phone, when I started to put it back in my purse, my right shoulder was struck with pain.
Four days later, I was still taking muscle relaxers and requiring my son Jeff to give me at least one shoulder massage per day.
Don’t tell him I said so, but my son is a saint. It’s better that he’s not aware of it.
Today, I am much better, and I’m ready to face whatever motionless object I might meet in battle.
And I’ll be sure to display my battle scars.