Grace is Overrated

When I was little, I liked to walk around with books on my head to illustrate my fabulous posture. Somewhere I got the idea that great poise was the path to elegance like Grace Kelly or Katherine Hepburn, women I emulated from all the old movies I used to watch.

What happened between then and now I have no idea.

Mention the word Jane and grace to any of my family members or friends, and you will receive an instant snicker. I trip upstairs, I slip, I slide, I fall, things happen to me, I drop things including the book balancing on my head.

A Week In Review

Just this week:

I was doing a thorough cleaning of the shower as there may be a chance the plumber would be in there, and I was not going to have him thinking we lived the way we actually did. Scrubbing the taps, I accidentally turned the shower on…with me in it…fully clothed. Luckily, I also have remarkably quick reflexes and turned it off so I appeared more dusted in water than drenched.

Later while vacuuming the bathroom vent which had stopped working to capacity, I noticed that the lights above the mirror were very dusty. I leaned over and gave them a polish. The dust came off easily which was good; however, I upset my equilibrium while balancing on the toilet seat. If you’ve ever balanced on a toilet seat, you understand that equal weight distribution is key. A second later I found myself with one foot submerged in the toilet.

Feeling playful the next day when I saw my partner, I swung my one foot out and did a little hop, then stumbled sideways into the island. He laughed, so joy was had by someone. I silently lamented the days when I could have hopped, pirouetted, and landed on both feet. I guess your 40s are for learning to keep both feet on the ground. Screw that.

Grocery shopping on the weekend, I was emptying my potential purchases onto the conveyor belt for the cashier. Cart empty, I headed to the cashier, but my foot turned, and I stumbled into the conveyor belt. I’m pretty sure the guy behind me thought I was drunk, and I would be lying if I didn’t admit that it did cross my mind to go with the pretense because that might have been better than being a klutz.

The Life of a Klutz

The one thing about being a klutz is if you can’t always be joyful yourself, you have a way of providing joy to others…inadvertently. The positive side is I don’t have much pride left so a stumble or a fall only causes me momentary shame…no permanent damage.

The moral of this ridiculous story is you do you. I am a klutz. I own it. If you are one too, we probably shouldn’t be in a room together, but I figure we laugh a little more than most…even if it’s at our own expense.

Sometimes all you can do is own it

It takes real skills to choke on air, fall upstairs, and trip over nothing.

- Unknown, but a kindred spirit

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