All my life, people have laughed at my klutziness, but I never understood why until a friend stopped laughing long enough to tell me, "I'm sorry, but it's because you look so sophisticated that it's almost comedic.
To which another friend promptly added, "Yeah, you're like Phoebe from 'Friends.'"
And then they both said, "Totally."
I laugh too, now. But that wouldn't have helped when I was growing up. I mean, who wants to look sophisticated when everyone else looks cute? Besides, it's tough enough to walk into high school every day, without slipping on ice, and skidding there on your tush. And then, instead of having people ask normal questions like, "Are you all right?" Kids asked me things like, "How did you get up gracefully?"
My worst klutzy experience though (in high school anyway) happened once when the halls were completely still because everyone was in after-school meetings. I remember being glad that, since I had to draw attention to myself by slipping out of the meeting early, at least I had on my favorite outfit. A soft straight skirt of butter yellow wool, and a matching sleeveless sweater with its enormous turtleneck collar. Oh, and my shoes...butter yellow Pappagallo's that I adored.
Anyway, I adored them until one heel slipped on the top step and I skidded down the entire flight of steps to the landing below! People poured out of the classrooms like the children in The Old Woman and the Shoe to see what had crashed. And when I tried to get up quickly to cover my embarrassment, and assure them that I was all right? My heel slipped again—and I tumbled head over heels down the second flight of stairs.
I remember landing like a rag doll gone splat on the main floor!. Lying there with my arms flung across one another, like an X. With my legs flung across one another, like an X. And as people rushed to help me untangle myself? All I thought was,"I just landed in front of my boyfriend's locker."
This time, no one asked me how I got up gracefully. Which was good because I was beyond mortified. And do you know what the worst part was? Finally I had a chance to show that I was a kid like they were. But I blew it. Because I—being sophisticated—walked away without a bruise, without a rip in my clothes, and without even the slightest smudges on my butter yellow outfit.