grace? nope.
coordination? nope.
gliding across the dance floor with anyone from 'dancing with the stars'? nope.
two left feet...on other people's feet? oh, you betcha.
i never was a coordinated kid. in a desperate attempt to make me so (and probably to make me less of a tomboy), i was enrolled in ballet. and tap.
in tap, i spent a lot of time on my bum. mostly because i couldn't do the time step well enough. i'd kick out, way out, and lose my balance and splat! on my bum.
ballet i did well at. mostly because i had the barre to hold on to. i'm sure if i had done pointe, well...you get the idea.
i spent a lot of time as a kid, skidding on my knees, laying the bike down or falling off of something. i'm sure my mom prayed every night for the Lord to allow me to survive my own childhood. i still have scars on my knees from a particularly bad tumble in the 6th grade.
in high school, i horribly sprained my ankle one day by landing in a gopher hole.
count on me to find the only hole in an acre radius.
as an adult, i was chaperoning some teenagers for a Rainbow girl function. we came in to a seminar late, so i had them sit down quick. the minute everyone started applauding for the speaker, i herded them quickly to our assigned seats and followed behind.
i stepped off a six foot scaffolding. to a cement floor below.
you know that moment when you do something really stupid? the moment when you've passed the point of no return and you have to surrender to the inevitable? oh yeah. i had that moment. as i heard the entire arena gasp as i fell.
niiiiice.
the good thing, is that i didn't break anything. i did sacrifice a pair of pantyhose and had to wear an air cast on my ankle to support it.
am i done? oh hell no.
a few years ago, going out for a walk, i stepped off the curb. and you guessed it...twisted the same ankle i always seem to injure. then, i fell down the stairs at work.
i so should be in a padded room. for my own safety.
but i'd probably catch my foot in the padding, fall, and sprain something else.
so occasionally, i think to myself, that it's a good thing we don't have kids. there's a really good chance they'd be klutzy. like their mother. and spend a lot of time injured, bruised or bleeding.
so what's the point of this story?
none. i like stories. i just wish sometimes i was graceful. along with rich, thin and with perfect makeup and air.
ah fantasy. where would i be without you?
6 comments:
Oh we are so much alike. My mo enrolled me in ballet when I was 6 to help me become less of a klutz. I was just a klutz in ballet slippers and a little blue tutu. And now, I will NOT put it on now. It might fit one though and that would look extremely silly.
I have fallen down more steps than I can count, tripped over shoes, dogs, cats, babies, toys, hoses, curbs, you name it. I have a wonky healed break in my back, two bad knees from falls and a badly healed (never did anything about it) bone break in my left arm. I have broken toes and fingers and God only knows what, including my tail bone. The coccyx something or other.
We klutzes must stick together...maybe we should take another round of ballet...naaah. I think I will just sit here on the couch and watch TV. Of course, I will probably fall off the couch and break my nose but I digress...
Watch where you walk and try not to fall over any stray cracks in the sidewalk.
This post was really too funny although I am sorry about your owies...I really DO feel your pain!! Really!
Love ya,
Sue
I have an "unlucky" ankle too. I sprained it one day a couple of years ago, when I was taking a class at Ole Miss, on my way to the final!
That was one long test. And a long walk back to the car. And a long 45 minute ride back to Senatobia.
Aw man, I thought it was just me? Just a couple in the long list of I-did-it-to-myself-memories: breaking my thumb in a folding chair at age 5, 3rd degree sprain doing Jane Fonda exercises in college. Yeah, klutzy sucks.
Graceful, rich, thin, perfect makeup and hair would be nice, definitely.
hmmm, interesting...another thing in common! lol
I'm pretty clumsy too. I'll have to write about it on my blog ... stay tuned!
That is why I didn't join marching band in college. High school was bad enough, the lines on the football field jump up and grab you, I swear! Along with cracks in sidewalks, floors, etc. Oh. And my shoes just plain hate me sometimes. You're talking to the girl who wore heels for formal night at Pep Band... went into the concession stand (at a boys' basketball game, I might add) and totally landed on my butt in front of everyone. Ouch.
I love your graceful story. You are too funny!
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