I once joked in high school that my life was just made of embarrassing moments and the days in between. I was the quintessential klutz, and to some degree, I still am. Falling out of the limo at my sister's wedding solidified my family's belief that it's not a party or event until I fall.
Up stairs, down stairs. Over cracks in the concrete, over my feet.
There's the time I spotted my crush in school talking at the bottom of the staircase. (You see where this is heading don't you.) I was rocking new clothes, feeling hot; I planned on walking down, catching his eye and walking away. I thought it would be a perfect way to get his attention. Except I got a little ahead of myself. Then, my feet got ahead of the first step. I slide down the entire way, landing in a mess of legs and books at his feet. I made an impression alright.
There was the time I tried to impress a date and fell off a picnic table.
And the time on stage where I fell through the trap door during a performance.
Sometimes I'm so lucky that my embarrassment isn't completely related to my lack of physical finesse. Most recently, I was in an audition when my face flushed and my mind emptied and my voice went silent.
But I find these are the things that give me character. Or, so I tell myself in order to buck up and prepare for the next slip up or pratfall.