(Start with "Monday" if you can. Starting my blog in the middle of the week would be like starting War And Peace at Chapter 280. You'd never recover.) So what were we talking about? Oh right. Quenching my desperate, neurotic thirst to hold onto the football season by selfishly foisting the sport on my readers with a feeble attempt to connect it to infertility. But of course, football and infertility do have the physical contact part in common... not to mention the injuries.
Okay, so in the throes of baby-making passion, you probably never put on cleats, threw your spouse to the ground and stepped on his or her throat. But let's face it. For most people: If you incurred a sex injury, you'd probably tell everyone it was a sports injury.
"How'd you get that cut on your arm?".......... Which answer would you rather give?
A) My cousins and I were playing tackle football and I got slammed into a parked car and slashed my arm on the rear-view mirror.
B) Yeah we were working on a baby and I started to slide off the bed. I grabbed onto the night table to keep myself from hitting the floor.
"What's that black and blue mark on your leg from?"
A) I was playing soccer and got kicked right in the shin by some brawny girl with monster calves and the widest knee caps you've ever seen.
B) "Cramp! You're cutting off the circulation in my leg! Could you please just move a little to the left? Cramp!"
"What's that bump on your head?"
A) Yeah a bunch of us were shooting hoops and two of us went up for the ball at the same time and knocked heads.
B) Yeah Jimmy always starts his moves too close to the headboard. It's hard to be passionate when you know that at any minute you might be knocked unconscious.
"What's that rash on your face?"
A) "We were playing racquet ball in the woods and there were these branches and these vines and then there might have been some poison oak"
B) "Why can't he shave first? Is that asking to much?"
"That's a nasty grass burn on your leg. How did it happen?"
A) "Well, I was playing hockey in the backyard and this big guy came at me with his stick."
Okay, so that one's a half-truth.
Listen I gotta go. My husband and I are going to play tennis. Just the two of us. We're not into doubles.
I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.