Just call me Grace

Anybody that knows me in real life knows I am not exactly graceful or a glider. Ya know, a glider, those women that look like they are just floating and can walk in 22 inch heals and still just kind of glide along. A glider. My 5'9 inches was completely wasted on me as I am a TOTAL klutz. With bones made of titanium apparently. Milk does a body good people!

At the clinic where I work they are completely revamping the parking lot because of all the slip and falls last winter, two of which were due to yours truly and my cat like reflexes. Everything is tore up and we have to walk quite a ways into work until the parking lot revamp is done. I had a glorious Monday morning before ever arriving to work--I ripped my pants on the way out the door and had to change them, Connor missed the bus so I had to drive him to school, and had a overall shitty morning when I finally made it to work. WHEW! I am here, I thought. I had places to go, work to be done, and people to impress. I was hustling down the sidewalk when the HEAD of the "company" comes up behind me and me being the social being that I am, turn to say hello. B-i-g mistake. I tripped, and fell FLAT on my face. I am talking splat, my bag flew one way, my sunglasses skidded down the dirt embankment, my yogurt rolled down the hill, I think some tampons rolled down ahead of the yogurt, and I was sprawled out in a most unflattering and compromising position. My huge head boss just kind of stood there and watched me pick myself up from the ground. Well, actually I couldn't quite get up so he attempted to help me. I got half way up and fell AGAIN! At this point cars are whizzing by and the main head of the nursing department came and helped me up too. I made it up this time and went tottering off to work with my pride dragging 100 feet behind me. I managed to bloody up my hand and completely tear my knee up but am fine other than that. It was humiliating, mortifying, and just plain embarrassing. I can't think about it without getting flustered and weak in the knees. And that doesn't help my Bambie-just-learning-to-walk-on-ice gait I must admit.

To help aliviate my public humilation I decided to put it out there for the whole Internet to read, because apparently misery loves company.