Or maybe its that I don’t move through space well. Or don’t interact well with objects, I don’t know, but I have a remarkable ability to injure myself by banging into things/ tripping over things/ hitting myself with things, as if I’m operating my body by remote control and I don’t know how to work the joystick.
I have poked myself in the eye with the leg of my sunglasses. I have walked into door jams too many times to count. I have opened cupboard doors into my own face, and closed them onto my fingers. I walk into the corner of my desk with depressing frequency, as if it has crept out into my path from one day to another. I fell down the stairs this summer – stairs I have been walking up and down all my life. But today was perhaps the ultimate: I was getting into my car at 7-11 today (Diet Coke, Baked Lays) and I whacked my head into the roof/ door jam while getting in the driver’s seat – whacked myself hard enough to bring tears to my eyes and see stars.
This of course raises all sorts of questions: Do I drive a jacked-up hoopty that I recently radically lowered, so that I mistakenly thought the door was higher than it is? No. Have I suddenly grown six inches so that I can no longer clear a standard Honda door frame? No. Did I amuse the hell out of the homeless guy drinking his morning beer on the curb who, though down on his luck, was clearly congratulating himself on being smarter than I am? Yes. And am I too retarded to walk around without a keeper? Apparently so.
I opened the cupboard above the fridge to get pain relief for a hangover terrifying in its intensity. Then I walked into the open cupboard door and almost broke my nose.
I frequently have unexplained bruises all over my body. I think I’m so used to walking into things that I just don’t notice any more.
I’m generally OK at moving two legs together, both arms at the same time, etc., but anything more than that is beyond me. For instnace, if I try to use my brain at the same time as my limbs I frequently run into trouble. (RUN? Who am I kidding? Stagger in an uncoordinated manner, more like).
When I was pregnant, I closed my tummy in the refrigerator every day.
A few years ago I had some facial surgery. My first day back to work, I tried to walk out the door, my hand somehow slipped off the panic bar. You can probably guess… I rebroke my nose and had to have the surgery redone.
I think I have a cleft on the top of my head from standing up into open cabinet doors.
I wear food at every meal.
In high school, my best friend described me as “graceful as a squirrel, C-O-W, squirrel.”
So, no, you aren’t the least coordinated.
Obviously on the tummy thing, not the nose. I only laugh at relatively harmless misfortune. (I assume the child didn’t have any lasting damage from this early trauma? An unnatural affinity for salad crispers, for example?)
hybrid_dogfish, it’s a good thing I haven’t had breakfast yet, otherwise mine would be all over the screen!
*Jodi, it appears we have something else in common – I’ve also been known to whack my head on the side of my car. There’s also an unfortunate incident in a nightclub when I was sort of moving to the beat and hit a fellow squarely in the nuts. He was quite nice about it, and we exchanged phone numbers, but nothing came of it, for which I think I’m grateful (“So, how did you two meet?”)
The worst incident, however, involves me and a stationary forklift, which was complicated by remarks from the plant’s safety manager a few weeks later. To quote The Gods Must Be Crazy, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
I hit my head on my car regularly. I just don’t acknowledge my car’s attempts to humiliate me any more.
This week, we’ve moved a lot of books from one place to another at work. This involves taking them off the shelves, putting them on a cart, and putting them back on other shelves. I managed to hit myself in the face with books regularly. I’m rather amazed that I don’t have a black eye from a couple of the whacks I gave myself.
Based upon this thread, y’all need to get our friend LostCause into this discussion. Paging LostCause! You’re not nearly as alone as you sometimes feel. In fact, it would appear that you’re just one of the gang.
Early last year when I still had a car, some thoughtless clod had parked their Box-On-Wheels exceedingly close to my car’s side. I could open the door just barely enough to slide in and had to gingerly slip my head between the door and the frame. I somehow hit my right ear on the frame and inexplicably jerked my head to the left by reflex, causing me to whack my left cheek and ear against the edge of the door.
While I don’t believe I’ve ever hit my head on the door frame of my car, I have opened my car door and hit myself squarely in the eye with the pointy top corner. I had a bruise under my eye for a couple of days.
Amen, brother! (Or sister.) I was once preparing to use the toilet, and during the combined motion of dropping trou and sitting down, I bent forward and smacked my head on the towel rack mounted on the wall opposite.
Good times, good times. :rolleyes:
Congratulations, fellow klutzes, on your (our) continued survival in a hostile world.
I have weak ankles, and as my feet pronate inward, I have a tendency to trip. Over my own feet. All the time. I also walk into doors, and often slip down the same steps that I go down several times a day in the house that I’ve lived in for 11 years. I always manage to catch my hair in the door as well.