To say I was accident prone when I was younger is selling things a bit short.  Accident inevitable is more like it.  Who am I kidding…I’m still the most clumsy person I know.  Poor decisions made on the fly and always tending to leap before I look was/is often the cause of my many disasters.  But some were completely and hilariously out of my control.

As I have mentioned before- I was a swimmer when I was younger. The gangly limbs and 5’10” frame that plagued me in my everyday life seemed to coalesce and find its rhythm in the pool.  Whilst I could easily trip over an ant on dry land, swimming for me was like a well rehearsed symphony.  My body just got it.  It still gets it, just a bit older and slower these days.

This particular incident took place when I was about 16 and readying myself for the first swim meet of the season.  I had spent the weekend before at my best friend’s house and we did the typical things teenaged girls do when you’re hopped up on sugar, hormones and not enough sleep with no parental supervision.  I can’t remember whose genius idea it was, but sometime during our weekend long haze my best friend and I thought it would be just the best thing in the whole world to write all over our hands and legs with indelible marker.  I’m not talking Sharpies here either.  I’m talking about the industrial, big as a baby’s arm, jet-fuel-scented behemoth markers used for…what, exactly?  I still don’t know.

Completely ignoring the warning on the side of the marker that clearly stated DO NOT APPLY TO SKIN, we went to town.  Giggling and laughing at every stroke of the pen.  Writing ridiculous inside jokes up and down our bodies like women possessed.  The Pièce de résistance was a massive cock & balls my friend drew down my left thigh that grew and looked as though it was jizzing on my knee when I would bend my leg.  We were particularly proud of that one.  High brow? Not so much.

You’d think after that weekend, and the fact that I  spent a majority of my life in a swimsuit, that someone would have made mention of the inane scribblings all over me.  But you’d think wrong. I went through the whole week with not one word mentioned by anyone about the writing on my hands or the giant wang on my leg, until that Friday; the day of the meet.

All the sports teams at my school had this silly tradition of dressing up they day you had a game/match.  Something about taking pride in your sport and looking the part, blahblahblah.  Here I am, dressed in a skirt and heels (how was this going to help me again?) kinda thinking I’m hot shit- still with black marks showing through my panty hose, when one of my teammates sees me between class in the hallway and calls me over to talk.  She tells me about some new rule about athletes and visible tattoos whilst competing.  Yeah, and?  She thinks you can get in trouble or disqualified for having writing on your body too.

Shit.

I panic.  No one had said anything to me the whole fucking week and suddenly halfway through school the day of the meet, someone springs this on me.  I try and fail to find my friend to tell her, she’s nowhere.

Shit, shit shit.

Cut to the pool. One hour before the start of the meet.  Having already warmed up, I’m in the locker room frantically scrubbing my hands and legs with soap and a loofah.  It’s coming off my hands, but not my legs.  Nothing is working.  I try shampoo, lotion and everything else within reach to try and get it off me.  I scrub harder, I scratch and tear at my skin.  I even try shaving.  But there it still is…the now slightly disfigured but still very plain as day, expertly drawn, veiny knob.  My skin is so red and raw now it almost appears to be throbbing and glowing.  Mocking me and my stupidity.  My best friend suddenly appears at my side, her skin as fresh and clean as a baby’s ass.  How the hell did that happen?  It just came off, she says.  IT JUST CAME OFF!  Help me then!  Get something, anything- so I can compete today!  Ask Coach, maybe there’s something in the office.

She leaves and returns to my side in less than a minute, with a spray bottle full of flourescent green liquid.  What is it?  She doesn’t know.  Coach said just to spray it on, leave it for a second and it should come off easily.

This friends is, in hindsight, where I should have asked a few more questions, or at the very least read the side of the goddamn bottle. But no.  My hysteric brain wouldn’t have been able to process anything more at the time.  So I just start squirting.  And kept squirting.  I probably used a quarter of the bottle before it started…

The blinding, searing, vagina-shriveling pain.  Yes, being that I was wet and not very careful about where I was applying this death-juice, I not only sprayed it copiously over my legs, I got some of it all up in my hoo-hah.  I produce a blood curdling scream and collapse on the floor quivering.  My friend tries to help and turns the shower head towards my shuddering body.  I cry out again, though the pain and burning is so severe now my voice is just barely above a whisper this time. Suddenly, I realize my Coach is at my side asking my friend what happened. My friend shrugs and says she doesn’t know what happened, I just used the stuff he had given her.  Coach’s eyes widen and he says he didn’t know it was for me, he thought it was for a wall or something, I never should have sprayed it on myself because-

IT’S A FUCKING TURPENTINE SOLUTION! Yay!  Chemical burns!  What fun.

Coach finds a parent to take me to the emergency room as my mum hadn’t yet arrived at the pool, and I am rushed to the hospital.  But not before (get this) my ass master Coach says to the parent to try and have me back before the start of the meet!  Fucking seriously?!  Priorities, anyone?

I’m taken to the ER, but because I am underage and the parent who has brought me doesn’t have consent from my mother to have me treated, I am handed a single Benadryl and sent along my way.  Good for you American Medical Establishment! A panicked, soaking wet, swimsuit clad teenaged girl comes into your ER -with what is a very obvious chemical burn- and you give her a cunting Benadryl!  Way to go. I bet you feel really good about yourself for that.

In the end, I did make it back to the pool just in time for my first race.  I managed to qualify for State Championships, break two longstanding school records and get a personal best time.

All while sporting an angry lobster red chemical burned slightly faded jizzing dick down my left thigh.

Say that five times fast.