Without any grace

I was born without grace. I am an eternal clutz. I regularly put my foot in my mouth. I have ceased being shocked at my inablility to do anything complicated without breaking something, hurting myself, or both. Last week in Miami, in the shower, I went to turn the water up and drove my face direclty into the soapdish on the wall... small bruise was left behind. Last night at Blockbuster, walking u p stairs, I misplaced my heel and almost went spiralling down the steps, thankfully some grandfatherly type was close behind and saved me. Walked into a meeting late Monday, was struggling to get the door to close, fumbled with door knob loudly and continuiously, until it popped out and rolled into the room.

The other day I was getting ready for work. My new outfit matched one of my purses just so, so I attempted to get the purse out of the closet I keep all of them in. This closet also keep all my Christmas ornaments, so in a mad snatch of the desired handbag, the ornaments (mostly glass) took a tumble and smashed across the kitchen floor. Now, I SEE that there is clearly shards of glass everywhere, and being barefoot should have played an impromptu game of hot lava by counter crawling to the other side and getting some shoes. But no, decided to be a magician and walk across the crushed ornaments with bare feet as some mystical feat. Ta-Da! feet full of microscopic shards of glass. Irremovable.

Three days later, after endless taping, prodding, poking, squeezing, I'm still walking like a bow-legged cowgirl, on my heels, with the front ends of my feet up, and in a sort of squatted position. It's really nice. I think a trip to a christmas ornament removal surgeon is necessary, but who has the time?

Friday though, I had a lunch date with a guy who wants to talk about potential job employement in my office, and just his career thoughts in general. How flattering. Someone views me as dignified and knowledgable. I had met him before,briefly, while I met about 30 of his classmates, so somehow I guess I missed the fact that he is SMOKIN hot. Dammit!!!

So, I cowboy swagger into the restaurant, and meet him. He's dressed in an amazing blue, dark tan, gorgeous eyes, fit physique, and a smile to melt most anyone. I don't know what it is, but I rarely am shook up by attractive men, but as of late, I'm a mess. Usually, I never even spot men that I find attractive, but this month they seem to be everywhere!

I think I was pink the whole time we met. How embarrassing, i am supposed to be the mentor here. What a mess. He had to go and be charming and funny too. Ugh. I bet he thinks that squatting stance I have is super sexy! I didn't explain it, but I KNOW he noticed. I felt like such a f*cking tool. Looking back, I really should have explained... but instead, I just looked like my diaper is weighing me down. I also walk at a turtle's pace due to the jolts of pain that I expereince with each step that my weight is not distributed away from the invisible glass shards. So he was trying to be polite and hold the door, and I creep on by...
and I am thinking the whole time to myself "stand staight and walk faster"...but instead let out a weird animal sounding "whoop" as I step down on the painful area.

Seriously, I think I could film a hemerrhoids commercial, the moves seem the same.

Thank god I am not single and in a position to have to impress men. I'd be happy just to not humiliate myself quite so regularly.