Fashion and Fighting

Speaking of fighting, this morning I (do you even know who I am? It's okay if you don't. I'm Suzanne. I'm the Assistant Stage Manager. I'm not nearly as awesome as anyone else in the production, but they let me hang around with them anyways)

Anyways, this morning I was lying on my bed, and I rolled over on my side, and I felt pain. Because there was a giant bruise on my hip. So I rolled over onto my other side, and I felt pain...you can guess why.

So I decided to get up and count my bruises...and that's when I realized it was three in the morning, and I'd only gone to bed twenty minutes ago. Which was a depressing fact, admittedly, but not worthy of stopping my forwards progress - so I started counting my bruises.

About six. Respectable. Normal. Fine. Nothing to complain about. And they're all hidden under my clothes anyways, I thought. And went back to bed.

But this morning, I was putting my shirt on when I realized... there's a huge bruise on my collarbone (which makes seven bruises) . Like, gigantic. Like, "Oh, are you okay, honey?" big. Like, everyone who sees me will think that I'm being abused.

The truth, however? I wasn't unhappy at all. In fact, I was ecstatic. Because the purplish brown color of my bruise...matched my shirt perfectly.

Thank God for fight choreography. It made my outfit.