They will out you. First chance they get, those buggers scream, ‘clumsy bonehead walking.’ And you can’t deny it, because the damn proof is right there, stuck to your knee or forehead or wherever. Of course, once the Bandaid has everyone’s attention, the questions start. What did you do? Are you hurt? Why aren’t you more careful? Don’t you ever think?
Telling and retelling the same shameful story is more painful than falling. People don’t want short, simple answers, such as ‘I fell’ or ‘I cut myself.’ They want details. Humiliating, mortifying details that haul your judgment into question. I ‘m not a fan of the question stage. It doesn’t build confidence.
Long story short, I fell. I took the dog out for a walk and, fwip, took my own little side-trip onto the pavement. Hurtling headlong for the sidewalk, my one thought was: oh, crap, this is gonna hurt. When I hit the ground, hard and on all fours, I thought: heh, that wasn’t so bad. Nothing was broken, nothing was dislocated or sprained, blood wasn’t spurting. My knee bore the brunt and it was scraped fairly raw, but in the grand scheme of things, meh.
Frankly, I was proud of having survived virtually intact. Thus ennobled, I looked up from my graceless sprawl on the sidewalk and there it was. A full audience. A goggle-eyed road crew gaped instead of working; traffic idled at all four stoplights; a young couple stood frozen in mid-step. In that microsecond, I seriously considered jumping up and bowing to the crowd. But I couldn’t, I was too embarrassed. Jumping, too, would’ve been problematic.
I scampered home, instead, doused my knee with peroxide, and let it air-dry. After a shower, I opted to forego the Bandaids. I don’t want them out there, grabbing eyeballs and branding me an accident waiting to happen. People already know I’m a klutz, I don’t hide it. So how about we all agree I’m a reckless doofus and then move on. Deal?
Thanks to my au naturel strategy, only two people have noticed my scabby knee in the days following my misadventure and they seemed mighty indifferent. So no more Bandaids for me. And never again will I buy The Incredibles bandages, those things are eye magnets. If I had my druthers, though, I’d take agile over everything. It’s good to dream.
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