The jig is up

Only moments ago, I bit it in front of the UPS guy.

I like to pretend that I'm graceful, classy and at times, elegant. Upon first introduction, I can even fool some people into believing I am all these things. It is, however, short-lived, for no matter what I do, I will out myself at some point.

For whatever reason, I was not born with a great deal of balance. How did I learn this? Well, it became pretty evident when I made it past 20 and continued to fall, trip, slip or simply lose my balance when merely standing up.

In this particular instance, I was heading into the mail room. The UPS guy walked out as I was walking in. He managed to complete this task relatively unscathed. Unfortunately, I tripped (I still don't know on what), completely lost my balance, fell into the wall, hit my shin on a box and probably said a fair amount of colorful words in the process. (This was the kind of fall where you're so out of control that your limbs are flailing willy-nilly and the whole thing seems to last 7 hours, rather than 4 seconds.)

Before I managed to right myself again, I was praying that Mr. UPS had already exited the building, or at least the general area. I looked back and saw that he was still standing in the doorway, but the second our eyes met, he had the decency to get the flip out of there. I'm sure he was just being polite and making sure I hadn't completely taken myself out, but sometimes chivalry takes the form of pretending something never happened.

It does come as some comfort to know that I come by this equilibrium deficiency honestly. My mom, bless her peaked, little heart, falls down more than anyone I know. It would actually be quite funny if she didn't tend to break or fracture one of her ankles EVERY SINGLE TIME. She even fell down the steps at Rockefeller Center. She broke her ankle but had no idea, so she and my dad continued their sight-seeing. Oh, Mama...

I do wish that I could manage to fall like girls do in the movies. (Well, except for Molly Shannon in Superstar.) It always happens in slow motion and involves one single movement where she basically floats down to the ground. Also, when a girl falls off a ladder or slips, it's because she was sabotaged, and everyone knows it. Or, it's just the preamble to a terribly romantic and heroic rescue by Jordan McSix-Pack. While I don't necessarily need the romance of being caught, I would love for someone to intervene before I do a full on face plant (or flace pant).

It's not that I really mind being an uncoordinated twit. I've had a while to get used to it and more often than not, I can embrace it. I can laugh at myself when I trip over an imaginary pebble on the sidewalk or if I walk into a glass door at Disney World (never happened). I'm mostly able to laugh in these situations because when I see other people do it, it's hilarious. So, it does make me a little happy knowing that my clumsiness may have brought someone else joy.

It really blows, though, to do this in front of a stranger... especially an attractive stranger. I don't know why but that always makes it worse. Considering it's a stranger, I really shouldn't care whether he or she (it goes both ways, as I will explain momentarily) is attractive. For all I know, this person is a massive tool.

With an attractive male (for the heterosexual female variety), this is damn near mortifying. I think, generally speaking, women still like men to see them as being very feminine upon first meeting (after we've gotten to know each other, I don't much give a rat's ass). Stereotypically, part of being feminine is being graceful and having the ability to walk in a straight line without tripping over your own feet. When that facade is rudely snatched from you before you're ready to let it go, it's rather embarrassing.

In front of an attractive female (for most females regardless of orientation), I think it's all in our heads. When I do something klutzy in front of another woman, I am positive that she is judging the tar-fire out of me. She could be thinking anything from "Where does she get off thinking she can pull off 4-inch heels? No wonder she scored so low on the math portion of the SATs" to "Wow, anyone who falls down like that couldn't possibly have a successful personal life. I should shoot her a look full of condescension to best exemplify my pity for her".

Again, chances are all she's thinking is, "That sucks", because that's generally what I'm thinking, but I prefer to project my own insecurities on this fictitious person so I have a place to direct my anger and frustration. It's a lot more fun that way, don't you think?

On the upside, I like to think that since I've already had my major spill for the day, I am far less likely to do it again or involve others in my calamities. What's that? It's raining? You're all on your own, kids.