What Do You Mean, I'm Clumsy!?

I remember where I was each time.

The first time, I was in Omotesando, Tokyo.

It was September 2011. The day was overcast, kind of crisp. I was walking down the avenue of the same name, passing some trendy brand store on my right when it happened.

I can't remember if the path was uneven, or the tile was sticking up off the pavement. All I remember is falling.

Reflexes took over, and bade me grab the railing to my left. I managed to cling to it as I landed. Unfortunately, the railing was broken. I didn't break it-- it was already broken. It just wasn't attached all the way along. So as I grabbed it, it gave, and instead of taking the brunt of my kinetic energy, the floor did.

Or rather, my left knee. I was in a weird position, like a kneeling prayer.

It fucking hurt.

It's a one off, right? Everyone falls over randomly on a really trendy street while in Japan, right?

... except it happened again.

This time, I was in Singapore, it was January of this year.

It's ironic, but this time we were really far up Orchard Road. Orchard Road is kind of the equivalent of Omotesando Avenue-- it's big, bustling, and full of trendy brand-name shops along either side. I'm not really into shopping all that much-- or brand names, but it's nice to window shop. I like visiting these places in any case. See how the rich people live and all that.

This time, I remember what happened.

The tile was uneven. As I walked over it, it rolled my left foot, slightly. It was pretty minor, but unfortunately, it had pushed my sneaker halfway off my foot.

Ah, shit.

As I regained my balance, I realized I was having problems standing because my left shoe was halfway off. As I stepped, I began to panic as I realized my left foot had no stable ground and I couldn't step onto it evenly. It was screwing up my equilibrium. Suddenly, I was falling.

And I fell; hard.

This time, it was no holds barred, full body plant, both arms in front of you to protect your face, fall.

I remember, again-- reflexes bade me grab something; anything-- but there was nothing there. I remember fleetingly deciding whether I should grab my brother, while thinking I didn't want to pull him down and hurt him. I remember his "what the fuck," expression-- wondering if he should grab me.


He didn't.


I flung out my arm-- and bam-- I fell like a sack of potatoes.

It was an epic faceplant.

Nobody laughed, actually. In hindsight, it was probably really funny. Maybe it really looked that bad though. Who knows.

I shifted my weight as I lay there on the pavement.

On my fucking knee, again.

Fucking fuck!

A young guy walking past obviously didn't think my brother's attention was really very caring at all. As he caught up to us, he looked at me concerned.

"Are you okay?" He asked me, worry etching his features.

"I'm fine," I said, getting up slowly.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm fine, really. Thanks." I said, being helped up. Mostly, I was just embarrassed.

He walked on. He glared at my brother somewhat as he continued on.

"Was my caring not enough for him?" My brother said.

"Well you are my brother, so there's always the, 'haha!' factor, deep down." I said.

"True, but he didn't know we were related."

"Maybe he thought you were just a really shitty boyfriend."

That kind of gives me hope. Guy was cute, too. Thanks random guy.

Anyways. I had slammed into my knee somehow, even though I had tried to land on my hands. It's always my fucking knees!

It bruised up something chronic-- I remember that when I went to sleep that night, I couldn't lean on it. It went purple and yellow. It was about a week before it healed. But it actually didn't hurt to walk on, so it didn't hinder our trip much at all.

So one day, when my brother said to me, "I was going to fix up your bike if you wanted to ride it again, but I'm worried you'll kill yourself on it..."

I was like; "What? I know how to ride a bike! I was practically glued to my bike growing up. What do you think I'll do? 'Look mom, no hands?'"

"Well you're clumsy."

"No I'm not!"

".... you full on fell over twice on holiday. You keep tumbling down the stairs at home."

Oh, yeah.

Am I clumsy? Shit. I've always felt I was an athletic person trapped in a chubby woman's body. I never thought I was clumsy. Sure I wasn't very graceful, but clumsy? No.

Sure I face planted twice within six months in public while just... walking. But that doesn't make me clumsy, right?

And then I thought about it.

My stairs are my nemesis. They are wooden, shiny, with a rounded edge. I wear socks a lot. I fucking love socks. So wooden stairs + socks = major slippage.

Once, I slipped while on the top step and tumbled down, stunt woman style. Or maybe like 'cat falls down stairs' video style.

When I was about thirteen or fourteen, I fell down the stairs that lead into the garage. These stairs are not rounded and wooden, they're tiled and pointy. It was like a stick being dragged along a railed fence. Thunk thunk thunk THUD.

... if you guessed that I landed on my knee, you'd be right. And it was right, too. My right knee.

Another time, I was flouncing out from the study, where there are only three steps. I missed one, lost my balance, and--

CRACK!

Somehow, my knees are the only thing that appear to break my fall. Oh and my tailbone occasionally.

I was in agony this time; it was my right knee, same as the time with the garage stairs. Both times were actually pretty brutal. They were not nice falls. My right knee is kind of messed up, now. It's the kind of injury that randomly pangs when it's cold. And it clicks all the time. If I'm pushing hard and biking or exercising or dancing, it can relapse or swell, or start hurting for no reason.

Another time, I was at the bottom step when I slipped, and reached out for the railing. But I was holding something and I didn't think to let go. So I cracked my tailbone on the bottom step, then slammed my wrist into the right-hand railing. My wrist came out worse, it actually took the brunt of that fall.

My nephew was there. He was four. "You shouldn't really wear socks on the stairs," he said. "Because it's slippery."

Yeah, thanks.

My tailbone has had it's fair share of injuries too. That deserves an entry all to itself, almost. I have sustained nerve damage all down my back because of something really stupid I did. It takes a really long time to heal nerve damage. Two years later, It's still not 100%

I still don't like calling myself clumsy, though. That implies I drop shit all the time and bump into things. I don't drop things. I'm not known for bumping into things.

And I'm pretty fucking resilient. I've never broken a bone; and I've done crazy shit. I remember biking on gravel when I was eight or nine even though I was told repeatedly not to-- and I went flying off my bike; a piece of gravel imbedded itself in my knee. Well, of course it did.

My knee appears to be a damage magnet.

I still have the scar.

I used to do crazy stuff on my bike all the time. This was before it was compulsory to wear a helmet, too. I was an unruly kid, always jumping off things.

When I do things on purpose, I don't get hurt, though.

.... it appears just 'walking' defeats me.

Maybe I am clumsy?

Nah.

I'm just... really accident prone.

... and, 'walkingly- challenged.'