Posted by: canthold | July 25, 2009

Resisting Temptation

I’m reading this book called, French Women Don’t Get Fat, by Mireille Guiliano. I think because of the Tour de France and a friend moving there and just finishing another French book, (Elegance of the Hedgehog), and wanting to brush up on my language skills this summer, I’ve become quite obsessed with All Things French. Does that make me a Francophile?

Well, this book – so far – has been a lesson in all things in moderation. I’ve been trying to enjoy my food more and not rewarding myself for every little thing that I don’t deserve a reward for, and stuff like that. It’s been going well, so far.


Last night, against my own person goals not to eat later than seven at night, and not to eat in front of the TV, and not to over-do-it, I got out some really good cheese and opened the package. In front of the TV. While not really paying attention to what I was doing. And I had a sharp knife.

And you know where this is going, don’t you?

I cut my thumb off. Not really. But I might as well have.

I was slicing in a completely unsafe manner and it was as if I were watching myself from above –  and knew! – that I was doing something I shouldn’t have. I pulled with too much force and when the cheese gave, the force kept the knife moving into my thumb.

It hit at about the second knuckle and went in pretty deeply. It was a nice sharp knife, just the kind you hope to have in your kitchen. The blood bubbled to the cut and then just started flowing out freely like I’d open the doors to a prison with rows of motorcycles lined up outside with the keys in the ignitions.

I did as any first aid trained soldier would do and I applied pressure on it after running it under some cold water. It took a long time and a lot of pressure to make it stop. Then, my daughter, the future doctor, (if we can help it) administered my band aid.

It hurt. It hurts still.

It hurts when I move it, bend it, touch it, use it, knock it against something, and even think about it. It hurt me in the middle of the night when I rolled over. It hurt to take a shower this morning. It hurt when I changed the band aid and it even started bleeding again.

And it’s swollen. And I’m sure, bruised. It just hurts. My husband insists that I don’t need stitches. He’s probably right and just the thought of them makes my nose hairs curl, but I’m so freaked out by this that I’m tempted to apply super glue to it just for good measure. I’m sure that would turn out disastrously, though, so I’m resisting temptation. As I should have with the cheese and unsafe knife wielding practice. I have learned my lesson.



  1. OK I have that awful feeling in the pit of my stomach for you. You would probably advise everyone you know to go see a doctor and get stitches, but you know best what to do for yourself.

    I have the sequel to that book if you want to borrow it.

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