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I'm the most uncoordinated clumsy, klutzy person. I always had a bruise, I always tripped and fell.
You proceed from a false assumption: I have no ego to bruise.
Because I'm no longer a pop star 24 hours a day, I'm no longer bogged down by the stupid stuff that used to cripple me. I don't bruise easily any more.
Often, those who bruise easily spend too much time thinking about themselves. I'd go so far as to say that oversensitivity is a privilege of the underoccupied. The majority of people don't have the time to lavish care on emotional wounds - they're too busy getting on with living.
For some reason, I bruise like a peach. I don't have enough vitamin C, I think.
The TV business is like the produce section of the market. Today everything is fresh and glistening and firm. And tomorrow, when they find a bruise on you, they toss you out.
I bruise like a grape.
I am a disaster magnet. I came home from our first anniversary vacation with jellyfish stings, a puncture wound from a wrought iron pineapple and a cork-shaped bruise in my cleavage.
Authority without wisdom is like a heavy ax without an edge, fitter to bruise than polish.
Arnica is great. I got kicked in the stomach by a horse once, and some adult slapped arnica all over it, and I had no bruise at all to show for my pain.
