This entry is dedicated to my klutziness. In 8th grade, when the tallies came in for the yearbook superlatives, I was voted class klutz (female). Really, the vote came as no surprise. I'd been dropping ice cream, stepping on leftover pizza, and using the word 'oops' quite a bit. I was also voted second smartest female - go figure out THAT juxtaposition! Unfortunately, the superlative section didn't make the yearbook cut because the person in charge filled in his and his friends' names into every blank space of every single eight graders' survey sheet. Keep in mind that our class had all of about 80 people, so there weren't that many surveys or that many blank spaces. But I digress.
At my workplace, I'm probably the number one user of band-aids (especially since my fellow klutz/co-worker/friend/jewelry fiend has left the shop). I get paper cuts, prick my fingers with staples, I've been known to get my thumb in the way of scissors while packaging customers' items. Its bad. And now comes summer, my most ungraceful season because of the increased use of flip flops while walking.
I understand that flip flops make me more klutzy, and accept that fact. I just love J.Crew's ribbon flip flops too much to give them up. So the tripping begins. Here are a few instances.
As it approaches Arlington Street, Tremont Street's left hand sidewalk becomes treacherous. Watch where you walk as you pass Masa; a tree root has upended one sidewalk slab. One morning on my way to pick up my sister from the train station, I tripped over it and slammed my big toe into the pavement. Bleeding ensued, as did vicious limping. I headed to the closest 7-11 for a box of band-aids, and owe the woman there a special thank you for allowing me to hobble behind the counter and use their sink and paper towels and hand soap to clean my wound.
Later that day (yes, that DAY) I tripped again on Boylston street outside Lir. The event had something to do with a tree and its dirt patch situated lower than the rest of the sidewalk. I managed to rip open the undersides of two toes and had to limp across the street, using my sister's water bottle and a Lord and Taylor receipt to clean my toes off. Thank goodness I had already hurt myself that day and had band-aids on hand.
Such events are standard fare for my good self. I have bumped into the same table display at work numerous times. I almost toppled over a frame of anklets yesterday. On New Years Eve, my boyfriend and I hosted a party at our apartment. Within minutes of sitting down and munching on multi-layer dip, I spilled my wine glass INTO said dip. And spilled it a few minutes later onto our coffee table. Needless to say, we mysteriously have much fewer wine glasses now than we did when we moved in last October.
One would think that cheerleading, Pilate's, and my new foray into yoga would have cured me of this (okay, two go-arounds on a yoga DVD does not a yoga-master make, but I'm getting there.) Not so. I do have impeccable reflexes. That frame of anklets I knocked over? I caught it mid-air. I catch forks that almost fall in my lap in restaurants. I've got pretty good balance. I sometimes think that ballet or gymnastic lessons at age three instead of violin would have made me much more graceful, or at least more coordinated. But then I wouldn't have my uncanny ability to memorize song lyrics.
I don't think I would get rid of this graceless accident prone person that I am. I can laugh at myself. Every time I fall off the crate behind the ring case or trip over a loose brick in the sidewalk, I laugh. I don't get angry (most of the time) or sad. I don't turn red (pink, maybe, but not red). After all, if I didn't trip over the metal ladder in the middle of the sidewalk in London, that would be one less story to tell. One less accident means one less opportunity I have to share myself and my human-ness with others. No one wants to hear about a walk to work where nothing happens. I think my accidents have made me more humble, and hopefully a better person.
So the next time you drop a full glass of water, or trip in front of your boss, don't get upset. Laugh! Then everyone else will, and the moment turns from embarrassing to entertaining.
