My Big Head (and Other Problems)

I have a gigantic head.

Seriously. It's enormous. I think I have a bigger hat size than my 6'2" husband. When we're in the car and he's driving, he says, "Lean back! I can't see past your huge head!"

It's become a family joke. While it might seem glamorous (ha ha), having a big head is actually a problem for me in many ways. Other than the obvious, like the time I waste searching for cute 2XL winter hats, my head is also a TARGET. I have knocked myself unconscious numerous times, and I've lost count of how many "pop-knots" I've had on my gargantuan melon. This leads me to another problem: I am a bonafide klutz.

My daddy always said that I could tear up an anvil with a rubber hammer. This statement can also be applied to my own limbs. For instance, I broke the big bone in my leg just by walking across flat (dry) ground. I fell, landed on it just the right way, and POP! I broke my arm falling down a hill. I dislocated my knee when a dog ran into me. I popped my shoulder out of joint while serving a volleyball. Then again while raking leaves. And again when I fell and landed on my butt (I still don't understand how falling on my BUTT made my shoulder pop out of joint....) And again just rolling over in bed the wrong way.

WEIRD things happen to me. I burned concentric circles into the palm of my hand because I forgot the stove was on. I gave myself a concussion when I whacked the back of my head on the hand-dryer in a public bathroom. I hit my elbow on my desk and ended up with some weird swollen infection in my arm. I got a mechanical hamster tangled up in my hair and nearly burned a hole in my scalp. I cut my head on the thermostat in the hallway as I was running away from a bat that invaded my college apartment. When I was 13, I hit myself in the nose (with my own fist) and left a permanent dent in it. I hit myself in the face with a baseball bat because I followed through with my swing a BIT too far. If I drop something, it ALWAYS lands directly on the bone across the top of my foot.

I fall up the stairs. I fall down the stairs. I trip at any given moment. Just this morning I accidentally kicked the grocery cart I was pushing so hard that it almost made me throw up - in the checkout line. I now have a giant knot forming across my shinbone.

My kids have (hopefully) dodged this precious bit of my DNA - for the most part. One night my oldest daughter walked into our bedroom and told us a goofy joke. I looked at my husband and said, "Well, she is definitely your child." A minute later, her younger sister walked in, tripped over her own feet, and fell face down on the carpet. My husband laughed and said, "And THAT one is definitely yours." I certainly hope the klutz gene doesn't become more prominent with age. I wouldn't wish this curse on anyone. You get the idea. It's dangerous to be me. I'm really not safe to be out. If I could wear a helmet and bubble wrap at all times, I'd probably do it. Unfortunately, it's hard to find a helmet in my size.