I’ve got this bruise on my forearm, and again, harking back to the art school thing, I should be able to put my finger on what it is.
My arms have been rather colourful since I’ve been wearing the body protector [am i doin’ it rong?] — I generally get them on my biceps, naturally on the inside, so I guess that’s okay, means I’m keeping my elbows in and down. This new one is on the inside of my left forearm, and I suppose I may have gotten it on the dismount? I’m wearing a Jack Ellis, one of those that close in front with the velcro and the buckle, the latter which catches on the stirrup leather and yanks the whole thing up to my chin. I’ve been trying to roll over onto my back and slide down, and this only works occasionally; yesterday, it didn’t.
So I’ve got this bruise, presumably from my ungainly exit from the saddle, and it’s kind of weirdly bright: there’s a nimbus of the usual yellow around the edge, but the heart of it is this greeny-blue, not like turquoise, but — oh!
I knew I knew what it was, and also, when I was trying to figure it out, I kept seeing the dresser in my friend Wendy’s neighbour’s place. Helen has a teal dresser. Just like my bruise. Or vice versa.