please, remember the kittens.
4 Jul 2007 03:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
I just read a short fanfic in which a character has sex.
A day after suffering two broken ribs.
Wow.
That was painful.
I speak as someone who's had two cracked ribs, and I was hardly a slacking low-endurance body at the time, either; all muscle and in top shape don't mean jack when your chest's been crushed.
Dude, just breathing is excruciating. Let's not even get into the agony of having to sit up, walk any distance, sit back down, and then get up again. Not to mention the rather ill-inducing experience of finally managing to get your shirt off only to look down and see your entire chest is one massive welt of dark purple-blue. No, it does not improve matters as the massive bruise fades to deep green to a lurid shade of yellow-lime. Besides, when you're capable of doing over four hundred crunches and not even breathing hard and the doctor still tells you "no intense physical activity for a month," your first reaction is disbelief. Why not? Define "intense", buddy, I eat intense for breakfast!
...and then I tried to sit up by myself. Holy crap, okay, that qualified as intense.
Believe me, the last thing on my mind was anything even remotely as energetic as trotting up a flight of stairs, let alone sex. But it was frustrating, now that I think about it. I seriously was used to being able to demand my body do whatever I wanted, without twinging or aching; to be unable to get myself out of the car without a bit of help was infuriating, and humiliating, even. It didn't matter that the weakness/helplessness was temporary (and hardly my personal fault). I hated feeling that weak, and I hated feeling like my body betrayed me.
Someday, I'm going to track down all these folks who seem to think Healing SexTM is a great idea, and I'm going to gleefully offer to fracture a rib for each of them. Just a fracture, not even a complete break, and we'll see just how joyful they each feel about the notion of a strenuous, energetic, muscle-tensing activity like, say, SEX.
Yeah, I didn't think so.
A day after suffering two broken ribs.
Wow.
That was painful.
I speak as someone who's had two cracked ribs, and I was hardly a slacking low-endurance body at the time, either; all muscle and in top shape don't mean jack when your chest's been crushed.
Dude, just breathing is excruciating. Let's not even get into the agony of having to sit up, walk any distance, sit back down, and then get up again. Not to mention the rather ill-inducing experience of finally managing to get your shirt off only to look down and see your entire chest is one massive welt of dark purple-blue. No, it does not improve matters as the massive bruise fades to deep green to a lurid shade of yellow-lime. Besides, when you're capable of doing over four hundred crunches and not even breathing hard and the doctor still tells you "no intense physical activity for a month," your first reaction is disbelief. Why not? Define "intense", buddy, I eat intense for breakfast!
...and then I tried to sit up by myself. Holy crap, okay, that qualified as intense.
Believe me, the last thing on my mind was anything even remotely as energetic as trotting up a flight of stairs, let alone sex. But it was frustrating, now that I think about it. I seriously was used to being able to demand my body do whatever I wanted, without twinging or aching; to be unable to get myself out of the car without a bit of help was infuriating, and humiliating, even. It didn't matter that the weakness/helplessness was temporary (and hardly my personal fault). I hated feeling that weak, and I hated feeling like my body betrayed me.
Someday, I'm going to track down all these folks who seem to think Healing SexTM is a great idea, and I'm going to gleefully offer to fracture a rib for each of them. Just a fracture, not even a complete break, and we'll see just how joyful they each feel about the notion of a strenuous, energetic, muscle-tensing activity like, say, SEX.
Yeah, I didn't think so.
no subject
Date: 5 Jul 2007 09:36 am (UTC)On the other hand, if the internet had been around *cough* while I was in HS, it could've been a dangerous thing. A crew team is hardly the most well-behaved set of critters off the water, and I just know we would've been yelling things as we got on the bus to go home like, "damn, doing starts the entire practice, and I could really use me some Healing Cock!"
Wouldn't have mattered that 90% of us had never seen one outside of biology textbooks. We were the ones who'd yell across the water to our coach that we couldn't do a 500-meter piece because our uteruses were falling out.
Reminds me of when I asked my mom about why she liked the song Louie Louie when the lyrics made no sense. She said, "oh, there are lyrics." I asked what they were. She said, "depends on who you ask." I was left with that mystery until I asked one of her college classmates, who explained that when a bunch of them had roadtripped down to visit boys at the major university, that The Boys had attempted to sing 'their' version of the lyrics, expecting the girls to be mortified. My mother and her friends were unimpressed, and replied by singing their version of the lyrics, and when done, found all the boys were hiding under various pieces of furniture.
*sigh*
Yeah, probably a good thing I pre-date the internet. Maybe.
Heh.