I was always considered a clumsy one, but no longer worry about it. On my first date with my present husband, I spilled a champagne kir all over the front of his shirt. He didn’t even interrupt his sentence, he raised a finger, and ordered me another drink
Recently he reminded me that I no longer spill things or fall all the time. I’ve just become relaxed about it, and his attitude has helped me a lot. He says he misses my spilling things, that he used to think it was cute.
I’m a switcharoonie too and my clumsiness doesn’t seem to be related to that at all. More to do with it being too hot outside, being too tired… you know, same suspects as for the unswitched.
Left eyed myself. Which is why I, at first, hated using the Nikon FE-2. Turning on the meter meant the film wind lever was poking my right eye. Using the MD-12 helped a lot.
I kick right footed, but surf and snowboard goofy footed.
Work, strength or detail, is equally divided between both hands. Hammering, sawing, painting, using power tools, whatever.
I can’t write worth shit with either hand, but am mostly right handed there. Except every now and again, like making a deposit at the bank or something, I’ll find myself writing left handed.
Can throw with either hand. I prefer using a lefty glove (glove on right hand, throw with left) in baseball. In football, I can throw farther right handed, but sometimes it’s fun to roll out and throw left handed. The switch tends to confuse the defense.
I had a thread sometime ago about ambidexterous indecision and the difference between planned out actions vs reactions.
The brass comes out the TOP? :eek:.
As a lefty, I’ve shot rifles where the brass comes out the side, and just took my lumps as there’s no way I’d be able to hit anything shooting right handed. Yeah, about 20% of the time my shoulder got some hot brass.
Really? I hold my pens like a left-handed person, just in my right hand. Do you?
As for the broken bone tangent: I’ve only broken one, and it was my skull. Probably explains a lot about me. 
I hold them normally; people are very surprised when they see me do something left-handed.
I’ve told these stories before (maybe I should start collecting linkies to my repeatable stories instead of rewriting them?):
I remember the kindergarten teacher making me bunch up my left hand and hitting me with a ruler whenever I used it to color or draw, saying that “the left hand is the Devil’s hand!” Mom claims this is a figment of my imagination and that I got it from the Celia books at Abuelita’s, only in those books Celia would not have to bunch up her fingers. The tips of mine still sting at the memory.
When my parents signed me up for tennis class at age 11, I only stayed for about a week. Coach explained the “forward” and “backward”, I understood it, but when it came time to practice the forward… as the ball headed to me, I instinctively switched hands (so the racket was now in my left) and hit it backward. He got angry.
Then we had to practice the backward. As the ball headed to me, I stood paralyzed. My body screamed “switch hands, switch hands!” but it was Not Allowed to do so! Coach grumbled and shot another ball. This time I switched hands and hit it a perfect forward. Coach got angry.
I dropped out. The club has a policy where if you drop out during the first week you get a refund so that was OK, and the racket had been a first comunion present so no problem there… but there’s times I wish that idiot had been able to reclassify me as lefty :smack:
In 8th grade, the Phys Ed teacher had to give birth in October. Her replacement was her sister, who had a degree in Biology and took no nonsense from anybody… including dear Elder Sister who’d told her which four to flunk. Among other things, she identified several of us as “left-footed” based on which was our dominant foot when we started walking away from a wall; I jumped 50cm higher as a leftie than as a rightie, going from a 4 (fail) to an 8 (B+) in that test!
In 10th grade part of the Phys Ed class was learning some local dances; us left-footed girls got to dance the guys’ part. Whenever someone insists that I have to start a dance move with my right foot, forget it: I generally can’t. I can do it in Sardana for example[1], but I actually cheat a bit: if we’re starting with a right-whatever, I do a little bounce with my left foot. And once I realized I did this, I’ve noticed others doing it too!
There’s many tools I can use with either hand, just not pens and pencils. I take pictures left-eyed (which is funny since it was the eye that had the worst sight before I lasik’ed), I’m stronger with the left hand and left leg. When I fiddle with things, it’s either with both hands or with the left.
[1] Sardana is a traditional dance from Catalonia. Dancers form a ring, holding the hands of the next two dancers. Even in semi-pro dance groups, there is a director calling the steps. It’s got to be one of the easiest dances ever, there’s only half-a-dozen steps (forth, back, long and short right, long and short left). The beauty of it is in how easy it is yet how nice it looks when so many people (often, several circles dancing to a single band) get it right. If any of you get a chance to join one during a visit to Catalonia, do, it’s fun!
I’m the exact same way. I write with my left, but eat and do most other important tasks with my right. I, too, bat left and throw right. The reason for me is quite simple. When I was a little girl I slammed the thumb of my left hand in the tractor door. Afterward I didn’t use my left hand for weeks. My new right-handed habits stuck with me even after the bandage was removed.