I look like Rodney King

First, can you believe that Rodney King died?!? No one had heard a peep from that man since his 1991 beating and LA riots for years. Then he comes out with a book this spring?? THEN he ends up dead at the bottom of his swimming pool?? Weird.

Ok, so I don't look like Rodney. That's being a little dramatic. (Can you imagine? Moi? Dramatic?) But I'm seriously bruised. Everywhere. If you look at me to harshly, it leaves a bruise. If a fly lands on my leg, when he flies away ... it's purple. We have serious problems here!

Now, I'm sure there is a medical answer for this. Like my damn platelets are low and that ... blah blah blah. Or I'm on that blood thinner and that ... blah blah blah. All I know, is you could play connect the dots with the purple spots I'm rocking right now. Thankfully, I've been documenting them for your viewing pleasure. If you're traumatized by these photos, I understand and I apologize.

This one is from a wiffle ball. A fucking wiffle ball! The kids were playing on the beach. I was covering 3rd. Line drive straight to my leg. Whammo! Purple. (Plus I messed up the play so badly, the kid ran all the way home!) But wait, it gets better ...

This is from a ping pong ball. My leg looks like a tree trunk, I know. It's pasty white because I can't go in the sun and it's still flabby - despite cancer!! (If you can't drop a couple lbs during cancer there is no justice in this world!) My nephews are like Ping Pong champions. Susan Sarandon better watch out. If I put the Cooke boys on the circuit, they'll take down her players any time! So with three of them, I thought I would jump in as the 4th player at Marcia's Basement Table Tennis Lounge. It was good until I took a small plastic ball to the thigh. Really? A ping pong ball bruise?

You can almost see my crack in this one, but I wanted to give you just an idea of what the rest of my ass looks like. This splotch is because I walked into a banister but it has friends a little lower down. Both cheeks are covered with bruises from all the shots in my butt. Chris and Kristin have been having a grand old time with my tookus. The bruises there are varying shades of purple, yellow and green. At least we can tell which cheek we used last by the color palette.

And finally, this doosey. Frankie Brancaccio used to sing "She's got legs!" when I walked in the room. Now he would sing, "She's got some shit on her legs ... kinda looks like mold." This is simply from being a klutz. But when I knocked my knee it sent a zinger ... like with your funny bone when it zings down your arm. Except this shot down my leg. Can't be good. But if I want to remember exactly where to hit to make that happen, God left me a small indication. Thanks for that.