Three Truths and One Lie: Story Four

Last week, cjane did Three Truths and One Lie on her blog. She invited all to participate, so here it goes. This week, I'll post three truths and one big fat lie. On the last day, you'll have the opportunity to vote and see how great you are at detecting my blatant lie.

Now that you've heard all the stories, see if you can spot the lie. Vote on the side for the one you think is the lie. You can vote until Monday at 6:00 AM. Good luck!

I've always loved soccer. Starting at the age of five I was hooked. I played every year without fail. Running up and down the soccer field and making goals was a passion. The other day, I was going through some stuff at the storage unit and found this picture {sorry Paige!}. If you can't tell, I'm in the front row right in the middle. That hair is so hot! Sadly, I never outgrew the "hot" hair. High school was especially sad, but that's a story for another day. So, I found this picture and remembered a funny story about when I was older and playing soccer.

Besides being very passionate about soccer, I was also very competitive. I wasn't a big bully on the soccer field, I just wasn't afraid to throw a few elbows. A few times though, I wish I wouldn't have thrown those elbows. Most times, it was girls bigger than me. When that happened, they'd usually just push me down and I'd make a new resolve to not throw elbows anymore. Yeah, that never happened. I'd get in a game and then the competitive nature would take over and I'd end up on the ground...again.

So, I played all through elementary school, middle school and when I got to high school, I decided I didn't want to play on the high school team because I wanted to do drama instead. Yep, I laid it all out...I'm a full-fledged drama geek and proud of it! Because the city didn't have a soccer league for older kids, I joined AYSO {American Youth Soccer Organization}. It's kind of like a city league, but it takes kids from all over the county instead. It also wasn't as time intensive. I could still do drama and do soccer on Saturdays. It worked out great! The only bad thing was that there were bigger, meaner girls than me and I still hadn't learned how to control my temper {it's a family trait...a few of us have it...what a gift!}.

When I was 16 or 17, I can't remember exactly how old I was, I had a life changing experience. It was our second to the last game of the season and our team was losing. For me, losing was just not cool. That's when I decided I needed to work a little harder at getting more goals. For me, working a little harder included throwing a few more elbows, pushing a little harder, and being meaner. So, that's what I did. One well placed elbow hit a very well-endowed girl in the chest. She was as cool with that as I was with losing and from there it went all downhill. After the elbow, she gave me a hidden shove. The idea in soccer is to be mean, but to not let anyone see you, because that gets you ejected from the game. So, it went back and forth throughout the whole game. Her elbowing me, me shoving her, a little kick in the shins {that's why they make shingards, for loving team members like us!}...you get the picture. I guess she had had enough though with my last elbow and she full on pushed me down while one of her teamates stuck her leg out. I was double-teamed! And I hadn't even seen it coming!

Now, gravity being gravity and all, I face planted, big time. Not just a little, I had been running so that made it even worse. And guess what broke my fall? My face! Who knew such a vital piece of my body could take such a brutal beating? It was horrible! And really, with bad hair and bad acne I didn't really need any help in the looks department! So, I picked myself up and really wanted to beat the crud out of her, but my teamates stopped me. We were still losing and I didn't want to be ejected from the game. I kept playing, with a little less intensity of course, I didn't want to do another forced face plant {or ruin my makeup!}. I figured I'd done enough damage already. How little I knew about the damage until after I'd been home, taken a shower, washed off the dirt, and looked in the mirror. And this is what I saw:

Yeah, that's quite the nice fat lip, eh? And this picture is AFTER I tried to help this totally awesome look by getting ready for the day. Yeah, the makeup didn't help much. Really, how can you help that sad deformed face? It'd take a dump truck full of makeup to help that! I didn't go to church the next day for fear of scaring the little kids {you know how they are at that age}. Fortunately for me, the fat lip only lasted a few days. Unfortunately, it solidified my decision of ending my soccer career. I had been debating it, but this did it for me. I decided it best that I stick to drama instead. That way I couldn't hurt myself anymore than I already had. So, I played the last game of the season, we won and I decided I was done. Until ward Futsal! But we'll leave those stories for another day.