"Ow"

Why in the world am I plagued by the word "Ow?"  

Growing up, my mother used to get frustrated with me as I would come clambering down the hallway into the kitchen and inevitably bang my shoulder on the opened shutter doors that separated our hallway from our kitchen (these doors sounded like the crack of lightening + a shaken jug filled with pennies when I barreled into them).  I always said, "Ow," on impact--not OW! or $#*@ OW!.  Just a plain little, "Ow."  After years of doing this, Mom said: "Kristen, the walls haven't moved in seven years (or however long it was that we had lived in that house)." She wasn't mad, but surely she thought I would grow out of it.  I never did.  When I am home in September, I know that I will slam into those doors and send shock waves throughout our house.  (Ow.)

This tendency to say "Ow" only spread...When my brother--good ol' Matthew--would hold a basketball and do some sort of black magic move (i.e. he made it look like he was going to throw it at me, but then, somehow, it ended up in his hands again), I would say "Ow."  The same "Ow" as before.   The ball's wave of air did not even make contact with my body, and yet, "Ow."  

If you were to ask him about his favorite "Ow"-inducing scenario it would be something he coined "SHOE!"  Basically, he would open the door to my room, and usually find me lying on my bed doing some homework. He would lob one of his big, black school shoes at me while saying, "Shoe!" (You think I have big feet? Matty has size 14s.) He would throw it verrrrry slowly but high enough that gravity's pull would make it fall much faster.  Although I had all the time in the world to escape the "Shoe!" and very rarely got hit, I would still say Ow! I mean, COME ON, KEL!

Even my roommate noticed how often I say "Ow" very early on... Within our first three months of living together, she made an "Ow Board" (which was a Manila folder in which she was to tally how many times I said "Ow").  She claims it was too hard to keep current, and I believe her.  How many times am I going to bang the sweet spot on my wrist into my doorknob before I realize that IT IS STILL THERE???!!

And then again, today...

Backstory:

I have been at my summer internship (Read: BEST. JOB. EVER!) for five weeks.  Today, I fiiiinally figured out how to adjust my chair.  For the past five weeks, I have practically been molding my body to look like this:

Quazimodo ain't got nothin' on my hump!

I have to say, going all "beast mode" on my chair, really paid off because now I am in Chair Heaven.  Didn't think there was such a place? Well, let me show you the chair that made it all possible:

It's not the same but it's pretty darn close!

[By the way, what exactly is "beast mode"? I've interpreted it as something like Arnold Schwarzenegger saying "I want to pump you up." So, I hope that's right...] 

Getting to the Point 

(something else with which I also struggle)

In my fit of rage over my uncomfortable chair I began to tinker...  And tinkering led to a lot of Ow's.  So much so that my kind and caring cube neighbor commented on how many he had heard and was everything alright.  I really need to break free from "Ow" but I am just not sure how...

The fact of the matter is: I am clumsy. I am lazy. I think I'm 5'6" because most of my friends are in the 5'2"-5'8" range, and I'm not. But most of all, I am just careless with my appendages.  If I make it to senility with all of my limbs, it will be a miracle.  

Maybe I'll bring Lent to August and give up saying "Ow."  Just like during Lent where Ow is switched with swear words, for every "Ow" I'll donate $0.25 to the American Diabetes Association. I'll have Molly keep me honest... Hopefully August isn't any more expensive than it needs to be...I need to think this through before committing.  

I'll keep you posted! (Pun intended)