As you've probably noticed, the name of this ol' blog contains the word Grace. This happens to be my middle name (surprise!) and as painfully ironic as this is, sometimes it allows a bit of humor to an otherwise painful situation.
I am currently in college, and today whilst walking up the stairs I fell. Up the stairs. How I did this, I will probably never know, but I somehow managed to trip over absolutely nothing, fall up about three steps, then come sliding back down to where I was originally standing. I was almost tempted to just lay there (it was actually fairly painful), but I jumped up and said "Never gonna keep me down" and took off to my class.
Why that was my wording choice, I have no idea. All I know is that when I looked behind me at the stairs, a small group of spectators were either staring at the ground (I assume trying to figure out what the hell I tripped over) or staring at me with a horrified/sympathetic "how do you breathe on your own" expression.
Way to start off my day.
Although this was one of the worse experiences, it is definitely not the first, and I'm positive it will not be the last.
When I was in high school, I was a bit of a hippie. I loved wearing long, flowing skirts and flip flops to class. Unfortunately, if a fellow student snags the back of your flowing skirt, there isn't very much there to keep it from falling to your ankles.
Not a very pleasant experience.
The only thing I could think to say after this happened to me in a crowded stairwell was "At least I wasn't wearing a thong!" I then pulled up my skirt and fled.
Maybe I'm just not meant for stairwells.
Once while in the hospital for my step-father's life saving surgery, my grandmother and I decided to walk downstairs for some fresh air since we had been stuck in the depressing, stuffy waiting room for hours. While walking down the stairs, my grandmother slipped on a wet patch, started falling down the stairs and grabbed my leg. I fell with her until we reached a slight plateau where I grabbed the handrail and my grandmother to keep from falling another story.
And that's how my mother ended up having her three closest family members as patients in the same hospital.
I told my mother once that I thought my middle name was a cruel joke, as I'm probably the LEAST graceful person on the planet.
I guess I was just intended to be a walking example of irony. Or more accurately, a falling example.
As always, thanks for reading.