I read another blog today that was talking about being a clumsy child, and it made me realize that all my life I have been plagued with this issue. Why, I don't know. But I decided to make a list and see if I can narrow it down to a Top 10 list of these moments, the ones you wish you could just erase...it might be hard, but here goes:
1. Trip to Europe with Tam in 1997 — can't narrow it down to one incident; this whole trip was a physical disaster. I believe I fell a total of 5 times, one of those times severely injuring my poor, poor left ankle that has been through so much already... You'll have to ask Tam if you want details. I try very hard to block these out.
2. The inside stairs at my last job — I believe I fell down these two flights of stairs 3 times during my 18 months there. These concrete, sharp, LOUD stairs. No injuries were sustained.
3. The outside stairs at my last job — this time there were witnesses. There were about 4-5 steps leading from the building to the parking lot, and one day I was leaving for lunch and just, I dunno, missed one. I fell on my hip in front of a whole group of people, who rushed over to help -- but I had already bounced up, was balanced on my pulverized hip, saying "no, no, I'm FINE, it was no big deal [help me jesus] really, i'm ok..."
[All of these so far are about falling. Hm.]
4. Falling down the steps at Moonshine on a blind date — this was the ultimate humiliation, but at least I never saw or heard from the guy again. I met this guy at a trendy restaurant/bar downtown one afternoon when I was in a foul mood and wanted nothing more than to cancel. [This was partly due to the fact that i found a pic of him on the internet and he looked like a sasquatch]. But I went, because you never know, right??? After drinking 3 martinis to his 2 and no food, I had decided it may not be quite so bad. Well I guess it was, because we abruptly parted ways in front of the valet. He walked off and I turn to the valet and somehow -- you got it -- fell down the steps in front of this trendy restaurant, on my FACE people -- sending my huge purse flying, lipsticks and tampons whipping through the air, loose change clattering, compact shattering...again, I did the "pop up" and was swearing to the valet, with a bloody smile, that I was fine; I think I might have even hissed when he touched my arm to help, but I turned just in time to see the ex-blind date turn around on the sidewalk, see me fall, nod and smile, then turn around and walk away. Prince Charming? I DON'T THINK SO.
5. My "Yak" scar — yay, not about falling! well, not exactly; my friend Alysia will remember this one; during my "experimental" drinking phase in college, one night I began the yakking as soon as we got home. I spent the night in the bathroom, in a fog of nausea and misery, only to wake up at the crack of dawn still in my leather mini skirt, with a pillow under my head (bless you alysia), still in the bathroom. I got up and stared in the mirror for a while because I had blood all over my face. It was originating from this little cut caused from the toilet seat falling just as I leaned forward to yak again. It caught me, literally, right between the eyes. That one was hard to explain at work that day -- I believe I blamed my cat...yeah.
6. Roller-skate wheel — in 2nd grade my class from school went roller skating at the local rink. During the all-girl's skate, this boy I had a crush on, Butchie, was watching from the sidelines. I felt beautiful. I glided gracefully around the rink, feeling his eyes admiring my 2nd-grade self and my obvious skating genius...finally, I was skating right by him, RIGHT IN FRONT of him, when one of the wheels on my skates rolled away. I watched it for a moment, in shock, then ate it and caused a minor pile-up. Just in case you were wondering, Butchie became Butch in high school, which was ironic b/c he was SO gay. Did my failure as a woman contribute in some way? I'll never know...but I'll always wonder... ;)
7. Texas A&M shuttle bus — Rainy, humid day in College Station. De-boarding the un-air-conditioned shuttle bus right in front of Blocker, the then-business building (= cute boys). Wielding a heavy backpack and a stubborn umbrella, I missed a step and fell, BOOM BOOM BOOM, on my ass in a puddle of water. Nothing more needs to be said.
8. Canoe at Spring Canyon — Yet another ill-fated attempt to look cool for a boy. His name was Marshall. We had started out the summer as a couple at this Christian camp in CO where we "worked". A week into it we fell apart. I spent the next 7 weeks or whatever it was trying to make him sorry. So one afternoon, on my day off, I was down at the pond, about to get in a canoe (YES, well now I know, but I didn't then) with a couple of girlfriends. I spotted Marshall coming over the wooden bridge. Instead of clumsily climbing into the canoe, as was my practice, I attempted to step delicately from the ground into the canoe. Well I hadn't been able to do the splits in years, so when the canoe drifted away w/my other foot I ended up in the pond, with a twisted ankle to boot. I had to go to the emergency clinic in Puny Bueny (as we called Buena Vista) and was on crutches for the next week. Oh. So. Elegant.
[I wish I could say I'm running out of recollections, but they just keep on coming.]
9. "The Chair" In a creative meeting — this one was horrifyingly recent. I was in the kitchen at work with the other creatives having an informal brainstorming meeting about something. I went to sit down and (in a matter of seconds, you know) my chair rolled out from under me and I sat on the floor, hitting the back of my head on the chair. It was beautiful. But don't worry, by 35 I've perfected the "pop up".
10. Rollerblading with Babs and Melissa — At the Veloway, a 3-mile paved loop in "nature" where you can either rollerblade or ride your bike, I went 'blading with the girls. Both were better than me, but I knew that going in. So they're going slow, trying not to leave me in the dust, and we start to go down this hill -- ok BABS, very slight hill -- and I feel myself rolling faster, losing control. They reach the end of the hill (the end, not the BOTTOM, ok Babs? ;) and look back at me, just in time to see me realize I was going to bust ass, either on the pavement or in the brush. I decided, in an instant, that bushes would hurt less, so I literally FLUNG myself off the pavement right into the brush -- and Texas brush is not soft. In case you were wondering. I scraped up my arm pretty bad, but to be a good sport, I went home, bandaged myself up, and limped to Shady Grove to meet them for a late lunch.
I am emotionally drained.