Sporty Spice

Touch footy, used to be one of my great loves. I stopped when i moved overseas. Now I know why!!!

When I play, I play with, ahh, passion & commitment - I've no qualms diving to make a touch (especially as I'm no sprint star these days). I'm usually quite good at landing. This time I got the touch. Was chuffed that after 5 years of not playing, and getting closer to my 3rd decade on this here earth I landed well. Walked around for a bit, plulled a few bindies out of my hands (prickly spikey things that grow in grass in Oz, as opposed to Steve Irwins daughter).

Then I looked down at my leg. Yuck. I was pissed off. I was going to be in pain in the shower that night. Yuck, took a lovely slice of skin off my leg and donated it to the playing fields of Centennial Park. DOH!

This is the biggest scrape I've had on me - ever. Yes, I appreciate I've been insanely lucky not to have done more damage done to myself in 28 years.

I don't want a scar. The doctor (no I didn't go just for my scrape) reckons I'll prob have some change in the pigmentation on my leg. There goes my modelling career. Grrr. You get interesting looks off people, when you're running about the city, dressed for work in cute, knee length skirts with a big uncovered graze. Esp from guys. I guess guys don't dig chicks with scars (or maybe just scabs..)

I'll be happy when I can run again with out it hurting. Or at least without cracking the scab open and it oozing everywhere. Realistically, I'll give up on that idea on Monday when I play footy again.