I can be such a klutz at times. It seems to go in stages. Last winter I fell five times in as many weeks. It was like a bad sitcom bit that the writers had overused.
Inside, outside, it didn’t much matter. “Here, let me plug that cord in for you . . .” BAM! Down on the floor I went as I slipped on an innocuous piece of paper. “Listen, dog, it’s fricking, fracking freezing out here. Just choose a spot to poop and get the show on the . . .” BAM! Down again, this time falling rolly-polly, pell-mell, tumble-bumble down the side yard hill, followed closely by my pokey little puppy.
Once I hooked my super stretch yoga pants on a lawnmower lever, and fell face first into a near perfect pushup position on the garage floor. If our neighbors happened to be watching at the time, I hope they believed I had just had a sudden urge to work out my triceps. (Considering my obsession with fitness, I’m sure that would have been their first thought. <Snort>)
It got to the point where my guys would just ignore loud booms, knowing that I had fallen yet again and was bound to hop up unharmed as I had the last half dozen times, but ornery as all get out. The thing is, too, I typically wave people away when I’m hurt or embarrassed. I have enough to deal with internally considering the pain and humiliation and don’t want to draw more attention to myself, have to stop and explain how it happened, how I’m feeling, etc. So, in part, I guess I’ve sort of taught them to ignore me after falling.
One particularly embarrassing fall happened in the high school parking lot. I was walking in to a meeting at night with a friend, and was looking at her instead of the ice on the ground. BAM! Down I went, on blacktop what’s more. But, never fear, I popped right back up as fast as small town gossip, super-fueled by my supreme embarrassment.
A teenage boy walking nearby ran over and said, “Ma’am, are you okay?” God bless his parents for bringing him up the right way. God help me, though, if him calling me ma’am didn’t hurt more than the fall itself.
The final time I fell was when we went to the local sledding hill at 8:00 on a weekend morning. We got there early to make sure we had the place to ourselves since, even if there’s only one other lone sledder, Spence is bound to somehow end up tee-boning him as he hurtles down the hill at warp speed.
Poor boy emulates his mom.
Upon arrival, I opened the car door, placed one foot on the ground, and immediately landed on my rear, becoming a cursing, quivering pile of quilted down jacket and Uggs. Thank goodness we were out there alone because no innocent sledder should have had to have been subjected to my “R-rated” meltdown.
At times, I watch and marvel at how agile, athletic people nimbly navigate through life. How lovely it must be to live as a graceful being. I wonder what it would be like to dance through the day performing gravity-defying grande jetes at will as I crossed the street, just because I could.
And dazzling Rockette kicks whenever I saved an extra 15% on a pair of gym shoes.
Artistically jumping for joy when I found an Anna Quindlen book I wanted on the ½ price table at Barnes and Noble.
Taking amazingly daring photos without a care, yet with perfectly pointed toes.
And using my dancer’s leg muscles to hold on extra tight as I stood while riding on public transportation.
Then, when spring arrived, literally flipping out over the flowering bulbs.
It’s true that physical grace often eludes me. But, you know what? I’m going through a sturdy phase as of late. As long as my feet stay firmly planted on the ground, I’m considering it as having passed Gracefulness 101 and will begin valiantly to work my way through the next course.
In no time at all, I’ll be leaping over shopping carts at Mariano’s in one fell swoop like a suburban gazelle and ordering sliced brisket like a deli meat counter contortionist.
Just wait, you’ll see! It will be a sight to behold for sure.
Can anyone else relate, or am I in my own little stumbling and bumbling world?!
Photos from “Dancers Among Us”
Photo Credit: Jordan Matter