Traumatic Injuries, Wrist Wraps, Paper Doll Mise, and Summer Sleep

Hello all, your favourite silly little lady is injured.

I remember the day well, like it was yesterday (which it was). I'll paint the scene for you. Picture silly little me being an amazing granddaughter to her grandpops, lifting crates and tyres from here to there for him. So there I am, lugging these monstrously heavy car-shoes, with my delicate lady-like wrists. Now these wrists may be dainty, but they've had their warlike hours.
*Flashback* Last year (ish) I attended Wing Chun Kung Fu lessons, and even invested in a punching bag, for home-time beating sessions, and a few weeks in, my sifu told me that all the little ladies had to wear wrist wraps nowadays, and that I ought to buy a pair. I did, like a good girl, but some of the pride that can be labelled 'foolish feminism' never let me wear them, or my boxing gloves. *Flashback ends*
      Long story short, now I have a dodgy wrist and a now-healed cyst on my knuckle. So back to my epic tale: whilst hauling these tremendous tyres around my garden, my dodgy wrist did something it likes to do every time it lifts heavy items, a form of protest, so to speak; it clicked. I didn't notice the pain for a while, but by the evening it was extremely painful to move, and achy in general. I also couldn't stop fidgeting and moving my left hand, since it's so accustomed to being an equal with my right hand, (note: I'm not ambidextrous, but I do use my left hand practically just as much as my right, except in writing, and my sifu thought I was left handed when I started training). So my left hand got jealous and wouldn't sit still, and in the end I turned to my old friend, Wrist Wrap (I have no picture to commemorate the experience, nor the times we shared, so my outline-y silly lady sketch will have to suffice, please ignore my skills, the sentiment remains). Wrist Wrap (I've lost his brother) had been neglected, and shoved under my wardrobe, and when I turned to him for help, despite his taunting, mocking and sneering (he's still sore that I boycotted him), he provided a very snug and supportive home for my little wristy.

Conclusion: It's not so bad anymore, but I'll take more care of Left Wrist in future.

I also had a go at recreating younger me's drawing style yesterday  (ignore my tapered finger, it's merely holding the wardrobe closed, and hiding the envelope containing mini me's clothes), and accidentally made paper dress up doll me, while attempting to make a cute little lady.
Therefore, the equation stands:

A Cute Little Lady = Me

Maths is on my side, le boif must be right. He has chosen wisely. 

I must say, if all that wasn't riveting enough for you, I've had the most eventful day. In fact, I even spent most of it being unconscious. Yes ladies and gentlemen, you know summer is here when all us lazy cat-like teenagers sleep in until 2pm. At about 3:30pm I decided it was time for breakfast, so I traipsed all the way next door, to le grandparents, to have a couple of lovely eggies. Ahhh, life is sweet.