It's Time to Explain the Bruises

Every time I start working with new people, there comes that day when I have to explain why my arms and (if they can see them) the backs of my legs are bruised. It's always after a really difficult trapeze class. That class was last night. Here is today's story.

Last night I did a series of back straddles then fell into the trapeze ropes in "iron cross," which means my whole body weight slams my arms into the ropes. Whatever. It's not painful. Much.

So this morning I'm in the office kitchen getting my morning coffee. I reach up to get a new bag for brewing, when someone says, "Oh my God, your arms!"

I knew about the bruises because I'd seen them at the gym this morning. No photos, but there are huge black and blue welts on the bottom of my bicep, and some red scrapes on my forearms from another move. It does look a little severe. But instead of immediately explaining, I say to this person, "Beefy, huh? I work out a lot."

This gets random laughs from some of the office people who, because this is a gay company, assume I'm into dirty kink sex. Not that I'm not, but they don't know. Assumers, they are.

"No, those bruises," the person says, concerned. "What happened?"

And that's when I give my standard answer... in one breath.

"Nothing, why? I just fell, on the stairs, then hit a door, but it was my fault, it was an accident because I'm stupid, stupid, stupid and I deserved it, OKAY?"

I think I'm already setting a great impression.