I suffer from the dropsies more than most women.
Tree roots, sidewalk cracks, and steps are not my friends, thank you very much.
I like to spill food on my clothes. Alawt.
It is impossible for me to dip the sushi in the soy sauce and maneuver it into my mouth without some of the soy sauce landing on the table, or my shirt, or my pants, or my napkin, or your glasses. Whatever.
I’ve been Heimliched FIVE times.
I once called my MIL early in the morning because I needed to know how to get spilled coffee out of my white blouse in time to make my appointment. I was all, “I don’t have time to talk, I just need you to tell me how to get this stain out.”
Then, I called her back in the evening to thank her for her help, and while I was on the phone with her, I spilled tea on that same damned blouse.
I probably won’t drink red wine at your house.
I definitely won’t sit on your white sofa.
What hasn’t been stained has been torn.
My favorite shirt has 17 holes.
Seldom a day goes by when I can leave my own house without catching my sleeve, my purse, my coat, or the dog’s leash on the handle of the storm door.
I am on a first-name basis with all the walls in my house. They probably think I’m a bit handsy.
I regularly stab myself while cooking and sewing.
Not having my purse zipped shut can cause quite a scene.
In fact, once as I bent over to collect my exploding handbag, my glasses fell off, I reached to grab them, my scarf choked me, and I dropped my coffee cup to the floor, where it bounced open and sprayed all over me.
At least once a week, the shoulder strap of my handbag gets caught in the seat adjuster thingy and I am flung back into the car by it. This seems to happen most frequently when my husband is trying to drop me off and there are plenty of other witnesses around the front of the shop.
Have you ever been pulled into the dryer by closing your own pants in it?
I would not like to hold your baby.
I cannot use epoxy of any kind.
I take the rugs up and remove all the towels from the bathroom when I color my hair.
All my life, I’ve had plenty of scratches and bruises.
I have never figured out how to get a single pill out of the bottle and into the palm of my hand. I wish someone would create a sorta Pez dispenser for people like me.
I cannot walk and chew gum, or walk and drink, or walk and take pictures at the same time. I can walk and talk at the same time, but not too well.
In school, I dropped more cafeteria trays than I can count.
As such, I was the world’s worst waitress.
My tea cup always rattles on my saucer.
I accidentally, but frequently, shower myself with the kitchen sprayer.
I am required to immediately despise all women named Grace.
Last week, I dropped a 12-pack of seltzer and it exploded all over the floor of the store. A woman walking by scolded me, and I pointed into her face and said, “Don’t you tut-tut me!” I bet her name was Grace. Cunt.
Are you clumsy? More importantly, are you kind to those who are?