Yeah, I guess that could be true. I have been known to trip over my own two feet. It seems I can’t go for a walk in the neighborhood without stumbling or tripping over something – usually uneven sidewalks, unseen curbs (don’t ask) or sprinkler heads. It’s gotten to the point that my husband just keeps walking figuring if I’m really hurt, I’ll let him know.
And yes, once I was really hurt and ended up in the ER late that night (but left because the wait was too insanely crazy long). My doctor actually asked me if I felt “safe” at home (embarassingly more than once) considering I seem to have so many klutzy, clumsy injuries (and yes, she knows my husband well).
One time, back when I was a teacher, I was going to try my hand at roller blading. Now you’d think that what I’m about to share would be an injury directly related to actually roller blading.
Um no…I wanted to safely (ha!) step down the curb, so I momentarily stepped into the pine straw so I wouldn’t be able to roll. And yes, I’m sure you guessed it…I managed to immediately go down twisting my leg something fierce on the way down. I had to go to school with my leg in a temporary cast thingie and walk with crutches for a couple of days. So not cool. And of course I’m too honest to come up with a great story instead of the truth.
Don’t even get me started on the time I fell off a tree stump and managed to break my elbow mere days after moving across the country. Let’s just say that I have stories a’plenty about my (seemingly) clumsy experiences doing everyday, normal things.
Not that I’m any safer inside the house mind you. We’re talking about someone that seems to be more than capable to walk into doorways, trip over the coffee table and well, slice my fingers just as neatly as I slice my vegetables. My mama would be so proud 😉
So the other night I figured I’d sit down and start to work on my toes and do a little DIY pedicure. I get out the clippers to trim and hmmm…seems one of my toenails is a little ripped. I proceed to take off the polish only to realize that I’ve somehow, through one of my (seemingly many and far too frequent) stumbles, managed to rip nearly half the toenail completely off from the bed. You’d think that something this extreme would have to to have hurt, right?
You’d certainly think it would. Only I can’t remember any recent bumps or stumbles of any significance outside of stubbing my foot on our bookshelf about a week ago. Nothing more than an “ow! dammit!” though. Nothing worthy of ripping off half my toenail.
So now I must figure out how to polish a half-there toenail (a barely there, light pink maybe – not too fun for summer if you ask me!) and still treat myself to the occasional pedicure from time to time. I wonder just how long it will take for the damn thing to grow back – research says about 9 or so months. Fun.
Are you considered klutzy by those who know and love you? What’s your most recent or humbling injury?
Photo by TheSullys