I'm the Queen of Freak Accidents

©Copyright by Jaye Denman. All rights reserved.

I’ve been a clumsy person—a major klutz—all of my life. I’m the only person I know who (as far back in time as I remember) can walk across the middle of a room and manage to bump into a wall, a piece of furniture or a door frame before reaching the other side. I have never had a strong sense of balance, or equilibrium.

Klutzy children may realize their limitations, but that doesn’t stop them from wishing they were graceful. As a young girl, I was obsessed with ballet. I sketched ballerinas en Pointe and performing Arabesques all over my school notebooks. I read every book I could find in the library about ballet and ballerinas. Oh, how I longed to be a famous ballerina!

But my enthusiasm was not going to change three major obstacles to my dream.

1. During my early years at elementary school, I lived 18 miles from the nearest town and attended a small rural school. Needless to say, the faculty did not include a dancing teacher, nor was it practical in those days for my mother to drive me to town for private lessons. Actually, I was lucky our little school had a teacher for Public School Music, where I got to sing with the class and play one note on a simple chime.

2. My clumsiness was a hindrance to any type of graceful or athletic activity. When I tried to mimic the ballet positions and movements illustrated in books, I suffered such a lack of equilibrium that I fell over. That same poor balance made me terrible at all games in P.E. and I was always the last one chosen for any team. This did not make me popular.

I’ve since thought that if I’d only asked for someone in my family to build me a simple barre I may have improved in both stability and grace of movement by practicing the ballet positions I saw in pictures. Too late now. I grew up maladroit and stayed that way.

3. Did I mention I was a bit chubby? Not really fat, but back then if a girl wasn’t thin prior to puberty, she was said to have “baby fat.” I look at photos of myself at that age and the word that comes to mind is “solid.”

You may have trouble believing this part, but it’s true. I was the only pre-pubescent female of my knowledge to retain fluid. I loved salty foods, and learned later in life that I’m salt-sensitive, Back then, I only knew that in the morning my clothes fit loosely. By afternoon—especially if I’d been eating dill pickles or green olives, which I loved—they were too tight.

My mother could not understand how this could happen. She often had my clothing custom made by a seamstress. If I went for a fitting in the morning and the next fitting was in the p.m., guess what? Nothing fit. It was always too tight. My fluid retention was driving the seamstress crazy, too. She finally solved it by making every garment too big for me. That really helped my popularity problem!

Okay...I’ve gotten way off course. I began this little excursion to tell you what happened this morning when I managed to break—yes, break, my ironing board by falling over it. I had the ironing board set up in the same room where I photograph objects to sell on eBay. I was inching my way backward to get the best shot, forgetting how close I was to the ironing board when...Boom! Bang! Crash! Ouch!

Suddenly, the ironing board was on the floor with me lying on my back on top of it. When I tried to get up, I fell over on one side and—oh,no! I fell onto my “bionic” knee, the one that replaced the natural joint and has never felt exactly like it belongs there. Falling onto it with all my weight (don’t ask how much that is) is not recommended for the optimum care of a knee replacement, and I’ve been limping a lot since I managed to pull myself to a standing position.

As the day wears on, every muscle, bone and joint in my body seems to be screeching in protest. But that’s nothing to what I did to the poor ironing board. Although I tried to push/pull its bent and twisted legs back into the correct position, one was bent so badly that it wasn’t possible to straighten it. The ironing board now wobbles, which means it’s only another accident waiting to happen. It will have to go to the curb for garbage pickup.

This means it will be necessary for me to buy another ironing board. Of all the things I’d prefer to spend my all-too-few discretionary dollars on, a new ironing board is not the first (or tenth) I would choose. But I can’t do without one. In fact, the ironing board was standing in place this morning waiting for me to iron all the curtains that I laundered yesterday.

This, of course, didn’t get done. It won’t get done tomorrow, either.

My life has been filled with freak accidents around the house. I once slipped on a bar of soap under the shower, grabbed the shower curtain hanging from a tension rod that I pulled down on top of me, fell sideways into the very small bathroom, across the closed lid of the toilet and hit my forehead on the extremely sharp corner of the door frame.

I’d previously thought the expression “seeing stars” was an exaggeration, but I discovered that it really happens. I literally saw stars, some of them the shooting variety, blacked out briefly, then grabbed a towel to stanch the bleeding and crawled to my bed. People suffering from concussion don’t always do the right thing. I didn’t call for help. I just went to sleep. The next day I had a painful goose-egg shaped bump just below my hairline. It lasted for weeks.

After one of these mini-disasters, I feel a bit nervous about movement for a few days. While it’s a folk saying that lightning doesn’t strike twice in the same spot, that has been proved not to be true. There are people who seem to attract lightning and have been victims of it multiple times. Now, that would be scary. I suppose I should count my blessings. I’m klutzy, which is sometimes a hurtful and embarrassing condition, but not too bad when compared with being struck by lightning.

Another good thing: It's been at least a year since I fell out of bed, so sleeping is a pretty safe activity.

NOTE TO READERS:  I will appreciate it very much if you vote and also comment, regardless of whether your comment is positive or negative. If negative, I hope you will give me some constructive criticism that will help me to become a better writer. Thanks!