Not a single one of my wife's fingers is completely straight. If you look at them closely -- which I have, many times, over the past 22 years -- you can see where they were broken, over and over, taped in place, and where she just kept fucking playing.
When I first met her, she used to joke about how her coach said, "I could get more than that out of a pig if I kicked it hard enough," and that was the nicest fucking thing he said. Two decades later, she's like, "Yeah, that man verbally and physically abused all of us for years."
There is at least one football game she played in high school that she simply doesn't remember, because she was a linebacker. She got a concussion. She got up and kept playing... or so she's told. She doesn't remember, because she had a fucking concussion and they let her keep playing.
I hate football so much. It ruined her back, her knees, fucked up her hands... everyone was so obsessed with how tall she was, how broad-shouldered. No one ever pushed her to transition, but I fucking wish someone had at least suggested it. That would have hurt her so much less than FUCKING FOOTBALL. Like, it would have been actually beneficial to her.
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