We all have moments that leave us searching for a hole to scurry into. Those times when we truly wish the Earth would suck us up and leave no trace. I have had plenty of such moments...pleeeeeenty! I am anything but graceful. Try as I might to stand talk and act polished, I still find myself in embarrassing moments.
FLYING and FALLING OBJECTS
I have been struck by bird and bird poo. By the poo twice. Once smack dab on the top of my head. Once on my shoulder. Neither pleasant. I think the poo on the head was much more traumatic because it was actually touching my skin...not my clothes, but actually creeping into the follicles on my head. Being somewhat germ-phobic, this literally put me on the outer limits of my sanity.
And, yes, I have been struck by a bird. While dressed in a elegant black dress as part of a wedding party I was struck by a just released symbol of love...the white dove. Proof of the assault came with the wedding photos where I am pictured diligently holding my bouquet while my face is a mix of surprise and horror. You can see my head bent sightly forward from the force and the dove actually pushing off with wildly frantic flapping wings.
I was also struck by an acorn once...in the head...in a huge park...with hundreds of other people. That acorn wheedled its way through the crowd and found my head to drop on. I remember hearing the knock, feeling the smart, seeing the acorn drop to my lap, and looking at my husband as he burst into laughter. I looked around to see other smirks and wondered why that thing had to hit me.
I have been the falling object many of times. I have fallen on the job, at home, at a clothing store. I have fallen while running, while walking, and once I toppled over from a dead stand still. I have fallen on asphalt, on dirt, on concrete, on a huge pile of boxed chocolates, in a moss-laden gutter, and on tile. I have fallen against stairs, cars, chairs, and tables. I have fallen over dogs, children, and my own feet. I have fallen off of motorcycles, bicycles, and scooters. I have even fallen from the sky on a number of occasions. I fall...a lot. When I showed up to my own bridal shower on crutches my mother pursed her lips and gave me a firm scolding because, obviously, I was doing something I shouldn't have been doing and don't I know how clumsy I am?
Also, under the category of flying object I can add the underwire of my bra. While talking to our vet about the health of my dogs I once had my underwire literally fly out of my sleeve and fall in a clatter to the floor. The vet was curious to see what the UFO could be but I had reactions of lightening and I whipped the crescent up and stuffed it into my purse. The vet stared at me curiously but proceed with his diagnosis. The underwire must have been ready to give for it to fly with such force. I am thankful it struck neither human nor animal.
OUT OF THE MOUTH
Some of the worst offenses are those made verbally. I am horrible with names. I no longer even like to address people by their names for fear I will, yet again, have them wrong. Once, on a first date, I called my date the name of his roommate. And, when I worked for a non-profit organization, I spoke candidly to the major founder. When I relayed this great conversation to my boss he doubled-over laughing hysterically. Apparently, the major founder was dead and had been such for a long time. I was just talking to some random guy that looked a lot like the framed photo on the wall. Those moments are the worst!
These are really rotten moments because you so often don't realize what a buffoon you look like. I once had my boss ask me what was caught on the front collar on my shirt. As I reach up and fingered it, I realized it was the tag. That's right, I wore my shirt to work backwards.
In another moment of bra drama, as I was flirting with a guy back in my single days I lifted my arm to make a gesture and the guy grabbed and tugged at something under my sleeve. "What's this?" he giggled. It was my bra strap. The thing had come unhinged and was dangling out my sleeve.
Boogers and zits and chives in the teeth are horrible to spy in the rearview mirror of the car. I can't count the number of times I have chatted and cajoled only to head back to the car to find a big black chive between my front teeth. Why don't people tell me these things?
I am sure my world holds more embarrassment for me. It holds far more than I have shared here! I just hope it goes easy on me...like, no more falling on 150 boxes of See's candy in a straight, tight denim skirt that would leave me wallowing like a turtle on its back. Yea, no more of that!