I'm Such an Ass

Somehow, over the course of my life, I have become known as a frazzled, clumsy person.

It probably has something to do with having larger than average feet attached to the bottom of my legs. And the untamed nature of my locks. That is not to say I don't fall down a lot. I do. And break things. Not bones so much, as chairs and things of that nature.

Every time I find myself on the ground, or somehow awkwardly caught on a rogue tree branch, I have two thoughts, one after the other:
1) I'm such an ass. I really hope nobody saw that.
2) That was hilarious. I really hope somebody saw that.

Like most, I possess the basic human instinct to save face. And to refrain from appearing a total spaz.

However a mere retelling can never capture the rawness of my idiotic maneuvers. It never fails that I always hope some one out there got a first-hand look. (It may have something to do with that strange giddiness that comes with connecting, even briefly, to people you don't know.)

Even so, there are those rare events when a clumsy move goes unwitnessed. I usually say to myself, "I'm such an ass. Thank God no one saw that. I am never telling anyone about that."

Which lasts a whole 10 minutes.
I cannot help but divulge my own secrets, perpetuate my own stereotypes.

There is poetry in the time I got a straw stuck so far up my nose, my nose began to bleed; symmetry in walking onto Proctor Terrace with my skirt tucked into my underwear; awe in each stained blouse, simplicity in all the broken chairs and beauty in each and every wipe-out.