Confession time, folks. We all have a dirty little secret, an Achille’s Heel that we don’t want others to know about. Something that always brings us down, so we don’t want to share it with others for fear that they will use it against us. We can’t lay bare the secret Kryptonite that someone could pick up and wield as a weapon to destroy us. Unfortunately, I don’t really have anything like that. I mean sure–there has been a lot of fuckery that’s gone down in my past, but I don’t really care if anyone knows. But there is something that I find embarrassing (or, at least, I did) about myself.
If there’s a chance that I will tip like a cow…it’ll happen.
I’m a klutz. I’m uncoordinated. One minute I’m on my feet, the next I’m ass up on the sidewalk screaming “Don’t look at my biscuits!”
As a matter of fact, I spent most of my twenties wondering when the next fall would come. Sometimes I was in a situation where it was obvious I was going to fall (i.e. it was icy outside) or I was trying to perform a physical feat that I knew my fat ass should never attempt. However, sometimes I would just suddenly be on the ground wondering why I could see up someone’s pant leg.
And in my defense, I was drunk for only 50 percent of the falls at the very most. Although, I don’t know if that makes me look better or worse.
I mean, one time I had to use my friend Jennifer’s bra strap as a handle so that I didn’t fall on my way out of a bar (okay, it was a restaurant)…but I actually didn’t fall that time. Well, not until I was at home trying to get myself into bed.
There was another time after arriving at a bar, I fell out of my car because my sandal caught on the bottom of my car seat.
Funny aside: my friend (we’ll call him “Brad”) told me after I got up, “I tried to catch you!” “Brad” weighs 90 pounds soaking wet after a trip to an all-you-can-eat buffet.
Another time, I was leaving work on a snow day, about to give a coworker a ride home (we’ll call her “Leann”), and suddenly I was ass up on the sidewalk after hitting a patch of ice. The best part was that I had been walking out with a group of twenty-plus people. “Leann” pulled a “Brad” and screamed, “I TRIED TO CATCH YOU!” “Leeann” is the same size as “Brad”.
I don’t know why skinny people think that they should bother trying to help a fatass as they’re falling. I mean, you’ll be going down with me, dumbass.
So…I don’t really know where I’m going with this post, other than to advise anyone that is walking with me–keep a wide berth. I will fall down at some point. At the very least, I’m going to drop something and break it. And, for God’s sake, unless you’re tubbly yourself, don’t bother trying to catch me.
Until next time…
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