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Monday, September 19, 2011

Epic Falls

If you know me, you've probably heard about - or better yet, been witness to - my epic falls. I have the ability to have massive tumble acts that resemble horrific accidents, get up, and bop away. Not kidding.

Why do I bring this up outside of the homonym that it's fall and I fall? Well, I had another EPIC fall. We're talking EP. IC.

To set the scene, I was walking down the stairs after a meeting. The stairwell is well lit, carpeted, and completely normal. I however? Am not normal. I am walking about 3 stairs behind my boss and about 3 in front of the rest of the meeting room letting out. In this, I'm wearing a cute dress and 3" heels.

I managed to misstep. And body surf forward down the stairs. Almost pancaking my boss. If she had turned around to investigate the noise? SPLAT.

My first thought was, "Did that just happen?" Second, "Did I break my water cup?" (Seriously, it's Starbucks venti insulated cup with the candy cane straw. Legit.) Third, "Body scan. Is your dress up too far? Nope. OK." And lastly, "Do I hurt? Eh. Let's see if I'm bleeding because I don't feel anything."

From this, I found out where the nurses office is located and how to fill out an accident report which will now launch an investigation into the safety of the stairwell. My suggestion? I'm not in it. Problem solved.

I have managed to walk away with some rug burns, bruises, and a little swelling. Well, it looked like a goiter on my shin, but with compression, I should be in tip-top shape.

Let's go down memory lane, though.

Christy's Bachelorette Party
I was out riding horses, fiddled with the reins while in a gallop that caused the horse to stop. I did not. I displayed my amateur trick riding skills with my forward somersault dismount.  

Damage: bruised ego, bruised shin from the saddle horn, endless giggles, but I got back on the horse, literally, because otherwise I would have had to walk.

Public House - Out front of my former haunt, there are 6 cement steps. After a fun night, I was standing at the top in heels. The heel dropped off the step and that sent me into a backward somersault ending in a Kerri Strug worthy pose where I tell the cops standing - stunned that I was standing - that I wasn't driving, turned and hailed a cab.  

Damage: bruised ego, bruise on my forearm, a soundtrack from Culture Club and I'll Tumble For Ya every time I think about it.
 
Sophomore Year at CSU

I had this delusion that I was going to stay on campus all day to study and brought all of my books with me in my back pack. I had a nice little turtle shell of 40 pounds of textbooks. Between classes, I ventured out to go across to the library and started down the steps. One misstep and somersault later, I'm flat on my back - er, turtle shell. Now, picturing a turtle on it's back, you will now picture me trying to wrestle to one side to get upright once again. Flailing comes to mind. Panic. The usual.

Damage: bruised ego, lack of studying for the remainder of my undergrad career.

Why is it important that I bring this up and I'm trying minimize bruising and scabbing? I have my cousin's wedding this weekend. An event that involves heels, a dress, walking, and stairs. Things I have proven I cannot handle. Sober or otherwise. Sheesh.


3 comments:

  1. Good luck with the wedding!! I'm sure it'll be FINE!!

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  2. YIKES!!! I know you will be fine!! fingers crossed lady, xxxoo

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  3. Well let's go back to the beginning..... Nov 1983, you were checking out the stairs to the basenemt and decided to try a step. It didn't work well, you tumbled end over end down all 13 stairs to land on your head on the concrete floor.
    Damage cracked concrete and surprise of your then short life.

    Roll forward to May 1983, first attempt at biking without training wheels, froze and could not find the break, 10" curb, 10mph direct hit resulting in your best imitation of Superman flying thru the air into Noah's Arch parking lot.

    Damage; one broken VHS video camera (I dropped it to rescue you, twisted handle bars and skuffed hands.

    ReplyDelete