18 February 2008

10 and... she's down


as a kid, i longed to be a figure skater. i think this is fairly common. because for little girls, there's nothing quite so graceful and glamorous (other than hoopskirts) as the thought of wearing next to nothing (half of which is flesh-colored tulle), lacquering on a shit ton of makeup, putting on white boots and effortlessly gliding across a sheet of ice on a 4mm blade.

that's not to say that i ever went effortlessly gliding across a sheet of ice. what few efforts i made wrought nothing resembling a glide, so i contented myself with dancing about my bedroom like a maniac in my mum's discarded slips, choreographing- on carpet, in socked feet- masterpieces soundtracked to michael bolton's greatest hits. the end result? a sprained ankle, a broken arm and a bloody nose. thus ended my "skating" career.

until today. when, rendered somewhat insensible by my recent travels through significantly warmer climes, i brazenly strode upon the sidewalk in boots with 3" heels. a step and a half in, i hit the ground. i fell in front of the house of the little old lady who waters her flowers every summer evening when i'm walking home. the little old lady i always smile at in that "don't i remind you of your favorite granddaughter" way. that's where i fell.

but this wasn't just a fall. it was the culmination of three years of fear- fear that i would fall on the ice, that i would break a leg, that i would be all alone in chicago and that i would be trapped in a 4th floor apartment for a whole summer and only escape into the open at winter's return. this was the realization of that fear.

it was also perhaps the most graceful topple ever managed by anyone in human history. a tumble so smooth and soundtracked so splendidly by benoƮt pioulard, that i was aware of the fact that i was smiling and judging my own fall as flawlessly perfect even as i was in the process of falling down. scott hamilton would've swooned.

then there i was: flat on the ground, the entire length of my left leg covered in a streak of snow soon to be replaced by a glory of a bruise.

in my excitement at having survived my great winter fear and my agitation at being unexpectedly ripped from a retirement i'd imposed since lillehammer, i did what every glamorous, graceful girl does.

i said, FUCK. loudly.

only then did i look up and see the little old lady, standing 3 feet away.

10 comments:

Meggie said...

Maybe her fav g'daughter has a potty mouth?

Did I tell you about my spill on the ice last week? I was telling Mom about the road conditions and she asked, "Is it really that bad out there?" And then all you here is me go, "SHIT!" It was a cartoon fall. My feet flew up above my head and then I fell. My butt bruise can join your leg bruise.

Unknown said...

somehow, i feel very responsible for this.

(putting on nurse's uniform, heading for chicago)

Linda said...

butt bruises are bad. mostly because they force you to stare at your ass WAY longer than any self-respecting person should.

and maybe the old lady thought you said "oh, YUCK". yucky, yucky weather.

oline said...

meggie: your cartoon fall makes me feel much better.

eF: you aren't, but do.

lindear: self-respecting people don't stare at their asses?

Linda said...

well, there is just a time limit if you want to remain in the "self respect" category. If you exceed the time limit, I believe it puts you into the "borderline obsessive". unless somehow you manage to bruise your butt crack. Then you can scrutinize as much as you want, because dern - that was a close one!

Clark MF Price said...

I start curbing my F-bombs and Beanhead starts dropping them. You still say them in your pillows at night.

Clark MF Price said...

On the subject of figure skating...
I was play Celebrity the other night with a bunch of gay people and Brian Boitano came up. Nobody knew who he was and they were like, "who is Brian Boitano?!!" I yelled out, only one of the best male figure skaters ever.

oline said...

contrary to popular belief, i do not scream obscenities into my pillow every night.

Clark MF Price said...

You don't scream them...you whisper them. Whispered like your Words of Power from your Book of Magic.<--blatant Bubba Hotep reference.

Les Savy Ferd said...

if I wrote down everything I've said at the exact worst time in front of the last person that should have been around, well, to paraphrase Jaws, I think we'd need a bigger internet.