the time i wore a pink tutu

When I was younger I used to play dress-up. All the time. It was one of my favorite things to do. We had a dress up chest (it looks like an enormous pirate treasure chest--my parents still have it in their house) that was filled to the brim with beautiful dresses, shiny (fake) chainmail, capes, cloaks, and anything else children need to fuel their imagination and explore the world. 

I remember one of my favorite dresses was my mother's prom dress. It was a gorgeous lavender A-line gown. I remember putting that dress on and standing in front of my parents' mirrored closet doors on a chair so that the dress could perfectly hit the ground. I felt like a princess. I guess this started my little vanity kick because the story I'm about to tell you also involves a mirror.

I was around 7 at the time, and in true Kayla fashion I was playing dress-up. I opted for a pink leotard/tutu combination this day and I was quite in love with it. For some reason, I decided to forego my parents easily accessible closet full-length mirrors and instead vowed to admire myself in the bathroom. Well, being a small 7 year old and not an adult, I couldn't see my tutu in the bathroom mirror! 

Obviously, this could be quickly fixed if I was on the counter. 

So I quickly clambered onto the small bathroom counter to get the full effect. 

I don't remember how long I was on the counter. I remember climbing up, and standing precariously on the little piece of counter that is between the front of the sink and the edge of the counter, and then I remember falling. 

I fell backward off the counter. On the way I managed to hit and break the towel rack with my left arm before slamming onto the floor and back wall of the bathroom. My mom--probably upon hearing the thud of my body--ran into the bathroom and asked if I was okay. I simply replied, "Mom, I think I broke my arm."

Apparently my mom didn't think so. She reassured me that I didn't break my arm and put me on our couch in the family room. She told me to wait 30 minutes and if my arm still hurt we could go to the doctor. 

I waited.

I didn't move.

I waited.

Thirty minutes later my mom came to check on me. I told her, "Mom, I think I broke my arm." So she took me to the hospital and sure enough. I had broken it. Yep. 

Actually, I turned out that my arm broke so easily from the fall because my humerus had a cyst in it. So I got a nice full-arm pink cast and a lot of trips to the doctor after that. 

Moral of the story: if you're going to be vain and check yourself out in a mirror, try not to do it on the bathroom counter. If you must stand on the bathroom counter, put lots of pillows around so you don't break your arm.