So the other day my old buddy ~m from Dreams, You Got It, Happy posted this about how clumsy she is. I read it and laughed at her pain because, come on, other people’s pain is funny, and then I told her that she was not the only one, which is totally true. I am just as bad, if not worse, and I’ve got the broken bones to prove it.
The story I told her was how I broke two toes back in April because I fought the law, and the law won. But actually the “law” in this case was my back porch step. And I didn’t “fight” it so much as step on it halfways so my two middle toes were split across it and then put ALL of my weight on it so I could be ABSOLUTELY SURE that they were broken.
(Now that I think about it, my “two middle toes” is actually a misnomer. Because I have an odd number of toes, and therefore only have one middle toe. If I had lost a toe in some kind of hunting accident or something, I would then have “two middle toes.” Let’s just call them the little piggies that stayed home and had roast beef.)
(Also, I should clarify that I’m not actually sure how one would lose a toe in a hunting accident, I’ve never been hunting. But then, I’m not really sure how one would lose a toe in any situation. I have yet to find myself in a situation where I thought, “Wow, I’d better be really careful here, or I could lose a toe.”)
Also, this was all done with a cell phone to my ear, and would you believe me if I said that I never skipped a beat and the person on the other line had no idea I had just broken two toes? Well, believe it. I’m saying it. Because it’s true. I’m a phone etiquette nazi and refuse to take call waiting when I’m on the phone with someone because I think it’s rude — so why should my broken toes be any different? I AM SUCH A GOOD PHONE TALKER!
Anyway, this all got me thinking about what an unbelievable klutz I am and how many things I’ve run into, fallen off of, tripped over, spilled, spit on or dropped over the years. It is A LOT. Like, too many to count. It’s kind of amazing that I’m still alive at this point. I must say, I’ve become something of an expert in the arena of klutziness.
The worst falls are the ones I take in front of other people, not just because the fall’s embarrassing but because I have this bizarre reaction to things like that where I laugh awkwardly and then follow it up with some kind of weird noise that is completely inappropriate to the situation. Like one time when I was still at UT, I was coming down the stairs from the library into the main hall, where there were of course TONS OF PEOPLE (because really, what’s the point unless there are TONS OF PEOPLE to witness your humiliation?) and I tripped and fell DOWN the stairs. In a short blue jean skirt and UGG boots, no less. (I thought I looked SO CUTE in that outfit, but it turns out it’s very hard to look cute while taking a header down a flight of stairs with a crowd of people watching and your underwear showing.)
So I very unceremoniously landed at the bottom of the stairs, underwear still showing, right at the feet of this large blonde security guard. And she asked me if I was okay, and I laughed loudly as I awkwardly got up and pulled my skirt down and retrieved all of my books and my bag from the ground, as if to say, “I laugh in the face of this fall! I AM SPARTACUS!” and then, because the laugh was not awkward enough, I make this weird “HECCHHH” sound, almost like I’m retching, like Scarlett did when she ate that awful turnip or whatever it was. I have no idea where this sound came from or why I made it. I still don’t know, and trust me, I’ve replayed this one about a gagillion times in my head.