I managed to actually slam my head in the car door one time. I blamed the wind, but facts are facts. It might not have been so bad except that I started to get dizzy and sick afterwards, so Mr. Legend insisted on taking me to the doctor to be sure I didn’t have a concussion. My doctor, normally a very compassionate and appropriately serious man, snickered more than once during the exam.
I’ve also shut my hand in the car door on two separate occasions. On the second of those, I’d locked the door and shut the pinky of one hand in it in such a way that it was physically impossible for me to reach my keys and unlock it. My kindergartner had to get into my purse, fish my keys out, and unlock the door for me.
Since I’ve been exercising regularly for the past year, I like to imagine I’ve gotten more body-aware and therefore more graceful. Unfortunately, it’s hard to convince myself of that on a week when I’ve fallen down the stairs twice.
Some more examples: I dropped my toothbrush and bending over to pick it up, ended up colliding with the bathroom sink. I had a huge bruise on my forehead.
I once smacked my bare foot on a book and broke three toes. Didn’t trip, just hit it hard. AND it was a paperback for crying out loud. Of course, this was three weeks after I had tripped coming down the attic stairs and hit said foot on the closed door.
Doorways are inherently sneaky, untrustworthy creatures. They will lie in wait, with more patience and stillness than any cat fixated on prey, watching you. Then, when your attention is elsewhere, they will sidle over, just an inch or two, at exactly the right moment.
Usually cracking some part of your arm into them is sufficient to correct the transgression and move them back into proper position, but occassionally it demands that you thwack your head into the doorframe instead. It’s usually best to do this around your temple.
Ugh. Just got home at 5:30 a.m. and my foot slipped on the gas as I reached for the brake - sending me slaloming in the last five feet into my closed garage door. Thankfully I was turning partly at the same time and came in at an angle, so I just scraped paint on my fender on onew corner, bounced off ( and smashed up ) an ornamental juniper on the other and crumpled my license plate when it impacted the corner of my garage door frame.
sigh Including the scraping and divot in my rear fender from being lightly rear-ended ( not my fault ) and backing into a parked Lexus ( definitely my fault ), I probably now have enough cumulative body damage to justify to myself getting it cleaned up at some exhorbitant price.
On the plus side it immediately made me think of this thread :rolleyes: :).
You get to fall down the stairs? I’m very jealous. I generally fall up the stairs, particularly when there are a number of people around, although I’ve been known to do it when alone as well.
I’m getting ready to clean my apartment: I’ve lived here for 18 months, but cleaning means that I’ll sport bruises for the next two weeks from walking into furniture that’s been in the same spot since I moved in.
One time I went to the doctor’s for a scheduled physical. The nurse told me to touch my nose, so I promptly poked myself in the cheekbone. I don’t drink or do drugs.
I also went downhill skiing once. I didn’t realize that you have to go from side to side to keep from going downhill too fast, so by the time I reached the bottom (having been oblivious to the fact that I was passing everyone else on the slope), I was going too fast to snowplow without falling down. So I decided to just let the friction of the ground stop me. Instead, I ended up skiing over a whole bunch of asphalt and was finally stopped by the lodge. Luckily, I had decided to be a dork and wear my bike helmet, so the helmet got a big dent and my head stayed mostly intact.
I have you all beat in the vicious auto dept. I have a convertible and have blacked my eye with the top down… 3 times ! I hit the post that holds the windshield. It seems to vanish as I open the door. This has happened both getting in and getting out. Already in use Skiing??!! Are you nuts!? WE don’t ski.
I once paid for 8 weeks of ski lessons. I was told no refunds, unless there was NO SNOW and there had never been NO SNOW
It didn’t snow. I realized it must be Og telling me I wasn’t equipped to ski. I did go one time, (I never listen.) I took one of those all day lessons. My right foot turns out just a bit. If the instructor hadn’t saved me 10 or 12 times I would have gone over the drop off.
Oh my, That reminded me of something really dumb I did a couple years back.
I had just taken one of those mini frozen pizzas out of the oven. It was on a metal cookie sheet and I pulled out the cutting board and set it on that. Well the cutting board pulls out over the drawers of utensils. You can see where this is going. So I bent down to open one of the drawers to get the pizza cutter, and I whacked my forehead on the edge of the still-extremely-hot-from-the-oven cookie sheet. Yes my friends, I burned my own forehead on a cookie sheet. Right in the middle of my forehead for all to see was an inch long burn. And I didn’t have bangs to hide it, and I don’t curl my hair so I couldn’t blame it on the curling iron. So whenever someone asked I just told them what happened. I still occasionally get crap about that one :rolleyes:.
I am also in the Clumsy Club. I don’t even notice when I walk into things any more, unless it’s exceptionally painful.
My SO is a dear about it though. If I am near a table, he will move precarious things away from the edge. If I am near a glass of water, he will watch carefully and catch it when I inevitably knock it over. He warns me when I am about to hit my head on a cupboard. I like having him around because it means far fewer bruises and a drastic reduction in spillages.
We went to the International Motercycle Show at the Javits Center in NYC today. I accidently bumped into more people then I can count. “Oops! Sorry!” “Sorry!” “Oh, sorry!”
My crowning moment, however, was when I brushed by a bike and managed to knock the mirror off!:smack: I swear, I barely touched it. A random guy standing next to me said, “If it makes you feel any better, they’re designed to come off easily.” It really didn’t help.
In college, I was reading “Pride and Prejudice” (a very funny book, BTW) while walking back to my dorm from class. I walked into a car’s side mirror, rebounded, and went down, spraining my ankle. Used crutches for weeks, and it never did heal right.
Then I resprained it the next year by walking off a curb sideways. This was the same route I had been taking to class for nearly two years. My nickname in the dorm was “gimpy.”
I lived to get married, and took a bike trip in Holland on our honeymoon. While stopped and standing over the bike at a stoplight, I fell over sideways (just lost balance) and knocked over several Dutch commuters on their bikes. Learned a few new words in Dutch.
Anytime I wear a shoe with an arch, I tend to fall off the arch and fall completely over. I don’t wear heels at all, for obvious reasons.
Also, I can join you all in the “where’d THAT bruise come from?” club. My husband is always afraid that my coworkers will accuse him of beating me up (he doesn’t, honest) because I always have these unexplained bruises.
I once threw out a used tissue in the SAME trash can I have had in the SAME place in my bedroom for over TEN YEARS, banged my head on the wall behind it and saw stars, and got a big swollen bruise. My loving husband laughed so hard he almost fell over.
Years ago I was riding my ten speed bike to the university for classes. I was holding my books in my left hand and steering with my right. As I approached the bicycle stand I noticed a sweet babe locking her bike. My dismount would have to be tres suave. I planned to swing my leg over and coast to a jaunty stop. The girl, of course, would be thinking “Wow. Who is this handsome, athletic scholar?” and would no doubt spend many restless days trying to arrange another “chance” encounter with the dashing stranger.
I approached the stand and the row of bicycles at a pretty good clip as I began my maneuver. I started to swing my leg over the saddle but… I forgot that I had inserted my feet into the little stirrups on the pedals. The confusion prevented me from braking
properly and I crashed headlong into the bikes, my books scattering on the pavement. I was still trying to jerk my feet out of the stirrups as I lay half-buried in a tangle of spokes. (The young lady didn’t even stick around to ask if I was okay.)
I don’t know what it is about women but they sure do bring out the doofus in me.
LOL I can join this club! Lets see, some of my more memorable moments:
Getting out of my truck in the winter time, slipped on some ice and fell between the open door and the seat hitting both my nose and the back of my head. Did the same exact thing getting back into my truck 15 minutes later.
My husband, loving kind man that he is, removed the brake from my rollerblades. Needless to say the only way I can stop is to grab on to anything and everything nearby. Attempting to drag one skate behind me to slow down results in eating pavement.
I went to flop down (hard) on DH’s lap, misjudged and landed squarely on the arm of the chair, fell off and hit my head on a table. The doctor says that it will be 6 months to never before the pain in my tailbone subsides. She said that I may have a permenant ache when sitting on hard surfaces. That was 9 months ago, it still hurts.
I can trip over anything, even air.
I fall over shaving my legs in the shower, I have scars to prove it.
Did you know that a dropped bar of soap can break your pinky toe? Oh yes… it can… Did you know that a Dr. can hardly contain himself when telling him what broke said toe?
I trip over anything and everything, air, rugs, steps.
I firmly believe that the walls move into my way whenever I walk. That’s the only way I can explain my bruises and me walking into them. (Honest, it moved!)
I chipped a bone in my big toe when I missed the soccer ball I was aiming for and hit the back of a cleat instead.
I once sprained my ankle by walking, yes walking, around a pool. Maybe by swimming but we don’t think that was the case. I used to sprain my ankles once a year. They rotated so one year it would be my left, another my right.
One of my best injuries, if you can call it that, was when I was about 8. We were playing kickball on the asphalt. I was a darn good player and could usually be counted on for a double or more. This time while I was rounding the bases I slipped and accidentally slid into third. On asphalt. My entire left leg was a scrape with gravel and sand and whatever else embedded in it. I’m the only one to ever do that too. I still played the next day though. I could kick but I couldn’t run so we had a pinch runner.
I still don’t know how I managed to survive playing sports. I really don’t.
My best friend Erica is the clumsiest person you will ever meet. She falls UP the stairs. Her boyfriend handles all sharp objects for fear she will fall over while holding one. She falls about 20-30 times per day. I don’t let her wear high heels because I fear for her life.
I once broke my toe falling down a flight of maybe three stairs.
I smashed my left index finger as I was trying to push up my window. I’d cleverly lifted with my legs, not my back, so my fingernail turned black, split down the middle, and as it healed emitted the most horrific stench of decay imaginable. The nail bed is damaged.
When I was in fifth grade I smushed my left thumbnail into a wooden cubby as I was putting my shoes away. The nail split down the center. To this day, the nail doesn’t grow correctly; it’s permanently split in two. This allows for a lot of unintended injury when I neglect to trim it short.
The only time I ever saw stars was when I opened my bathroom cabinet and the door came off and fell onto my head. So perhaps I’m lucky.
Over Christmas I fell out of my sister’s car, stepped in dog shit clearly distinguished from the pavement, tripped on the carpet, fell up the stairs, slipped in the shower and cracked my shin against the side of the tub, fell onto the coffee table, sustained innumerable paper cuts, walked into the wall, and fell on my ankle in Marshalls for no reason at all.
I’ve been there. In middle school I went on a ski trip as part of the “attitude honor roll.” Luckily, we lived in Iowa (went skiing in Illinois), so I didn’t have to worry about falling off mountains. I took 1 hour of lessons on my first trip, and by my second trip I decided I was ready to graduate from the bunny hills to a blue one (with ski lifts). I was pretty much going straight down when I got flagged by a ski patrol dude. I deliberately fell down to stop, and he clipped my ski pass (so I couldn’t go on any more of the lifts, which kept me confined to the bunny hills).
I run into jutting corners quite a bit. Maybe my brain just thinks my body is not as wide as it really is. I easily trip (I think I have weak ankles or something). I suppose it doesn’t help that I drag my feet a lot when I walk. Naturally, my boyfriend thinks it’s hilarious when we’re walking and I seem to trip over nothing. He just doesn’t understand.
