I know I should make up a much more interesting story. But, the truth is this: after a five mile run last week in Central Park with Gunther the Wonder Dog (our beloved rescued Brittany), while walking home, yakking it up on the phone with a girlfriend–holding the iPhone in one hand and Gunther’s leash in the other–I tripped and fell. The fall was excruciatingly fast and furious, knocking the wind right out of me, and breaking my arm.
Luckily, I held on tight to Gunther’s leash (not that he would ever leave my side), but my phone went flying and I was flat out on my stomach. It happened so quickly, I’m still in shock when I think about it. I wish I could say I tripped on a piece of sidewalk that was sticking up, or some garbage that I just hadn’t seen. But, no. I tripped on my own two feet.
Result? A nice, clean, straight break on my radius neck . . . an area just below the elbow. The pain was intense as I held my broken arm while calling my husband on the cell phone. My girlfriend, with whom I had been chatting, was frantic. She didn’t even know where I was. After everything and everyone calmed down, I went to the ER, got an X-ray, and was sent to an orthopedic surgeon, who diagnosed my break, and introduced me to my two new best friends: “Splint” and “Sling.” They’ll be staying with me for about eight weeks. Oh, and Heather, my Physical Therapist whom I’ll be seeing twice a week for eight weeks is hanging with us, too.
The good news is I don’t need surgery and I’m not in a hard cast. The bad news is it’s my right arm and I’m a writer and this is really and truly inconvenient. However . . . I also realize it could have been so much worse. The other bit of good news is that now my two daughters are doing a whole lot more around the house. They sometimes give me a suspicious look when I pout and say, “Oh, Sarah (or Elizabeth) could you please empty the dishwasher? (or fold the laundry? or do the dishes?). It’s a wonderful benefit.
But, I digress.
This past weekend I had to attend a black tie wedding, which I was thrilled about going to because it meant I could bring out my grown up, long, black kinda slinky dress with spaghetti straps and wear it for the big event. It’s the kind of dress that I only have reason to wear once in a while. And I had no backup.
When I fell, not only did I break my arm, but I also bruised my knee and my left arm, as well. My knee, of course, would be covered by the dress, and my right arm would have the splint and sling, but my left arm . . . well . . . wasn’t looking too attractive.
I thought about wearing something over the dress, like a wrap. But, with the sling, a wrap could become very cumbersome, very quickly.
I thought about just saying “Oh, who cares?” and going with the spaghetti straps, but I wasn’t feeling comfortable (my bruised arm would have become more of a conversation starter than my broken one.)
Then, it hit me: my daughter had a very old sheer black top that tied in the front, meant to be worn over a sleeveless or spaghetti strap dress. Sure, I could have just thrown that over my own dress, but I had something much more interesting in mind.
The morning before the event, I took my dress and the sheer black top to my tailor, a wonderful woman who was born and raised in Korea, and who now had a successful tailor and dry cleaning shop just a block away from my home. With a lot of help, I put my dress on in her shop, told her my vision, and she got to work pinning and talking in Korean to her partner. Then she said, “Okay!” I left the dress, and my high hopes, with her.
The next day, just two hours before we were scheduled to leave for the wedding, she delivered the dress. Knowing that if it didn’t look good, or didn’t work, I was in big trouble.
Well . . . here it is. You decide.
I took a 15-year old dress and with a little bit of vision and a lot of help from a wonderful seamstress, I now have a brand new dress that’s a little hipper, sexier and more fun than the original.