When I went over to visit a boy a few weeks ago, it was raining, and as I followed him down his hardwood stairs, I slipped on my damp Chucks and fell-- bump, bump, bump-- on my tail bone down three hard-as-rock stairs. It hurt soooo much but I just popped right off and started to laugh. He did not join me in laughing, which was weird. I give people FULL permission to laugh when I lose my balance, which happens often.
Later, I was biking with the same guy, who was wearing me down stamina-wise (22 miles! MY BUTT!!!). Just after making the swaggerish claim, "I could kick your trash in swimming!" to try and save face... I took a tree branch straight to the face. Didn't EEEEEVEN see it coming.
Then, there was the time I fell down the escalator at the Suncoast Casino in front of Sam F., my junior year super-crush. Or the time I seriously sprained my ankle falling off a sidewalk (again, in the middle of a date, and there might have been swearing involved). I also ran into a pole at twilight in Paris. So (un)romantic.
How about when I opened an umbrella in someone's face and caused their lip to split open (on a blind date to a Jazz game in SLC)? Remember when I had to ride down Snowbird mountain in a toboggan at the end of the day and my friends thought I was dead, when really it was because my legs were so shot that I literally would have collapsed on the snow if I had had to snowplow six more feet?
Once, I came home from doing baptisms at the Provo temple and was standing in a ring of friends, just chatting, when I sort-of fidgeted my foot around in one of my shoes (they were borrowed, beautiful ankle-strappers, courtesy of the lovely Katie Worsley), when my ankle just suddenly tweaked downward off the shoe and I collapsed in a heap. In front of the ward hottie, who just stared at me and mimed catching me, even though he obviously couldn't have (my descent was too quick for him and his gallantry!)
And then, there was the granddaddy of all Lindsey-is-retarded moments, when I closed my eyes for a second to pant while on a treadmill in the Provo 24-Hour... and opened them in time to feel myself at the very edge of the belt, and then got shot backwards across the room onto my back! Undeterred, I hopped right back on the treadmill, having forgotten that it was still spinning around at a decent running pace of 6 mph. In quick succession, the spinning belt knocked my extended foot out from under me, caused me to crash to my knees on the treadmill belt (skinning both of them), and then shot me, again, off the back of the treadmill, roughing up my shins on the back cylinder as I passed by. I clambered up, still undeterred (the iPod blaring high-energy Beyonce helped block the pain). I reached around to turn the speed knob DOWN this time, and about 5 seconds later, I snuck a glance at the line of treadmills to see if anyone had noticed. At least FIVE runners had STOPPED their treadmills and were staring, mouths open, at me; the guy directly to my left mouthed, "ARE YOU OK??" incredulously, to which I just breathlessly replied, "Yea! Whew! I'm fine!" Then I turned around to face the tv monitors again.... and tried in vain to ignore the shooting pains of sweat seeping into the open wounds on my knees and shins.
If you would like more stories like that, I have them. Or if you have favorites I've missed, please remind me :)
Never let it phase you, and enjoy laughing at yourself. It's good to be a clown.