A Side of Rice

Hopefully Humorous (and sometimes R-rated) Musings About Life

Eat My Klutz Dust, Bitches

3 Comments

As my husband will tell you, I am a total klutz. Time and time again, my actions and reactions affirm his decidedly annoying (yet accurate) assessment of my general lack of walking-while-chewing-gum skills.

Last year on Halloween I severely sprained my arm when I fell off our front steps.

Years ago, I broke my nose when at the exact same moment I was bending down to pet our dog, she jumped up at me. Technically, I only bear the brundt of half of that klutziness, right?

And then there was the time I tried to get a very large can of baked beans off the top shelf of the kitchen cabinet with a wooden spoon (in addition to raging klutziness, I also suffer from a height deficiency). I was able to push the can out quicker than expected and it fell directly onto my shin. The resulting bruise went from my knee to past my ankle (the richochet point was my ankle – bonus bruising!). The bruise was so ugly, my boss asked me to wear pants to work instead of dresses/skirts until it went away.

About two weeks ago, I accidentally kicked the couch in the kid’s playroom. The sound my toes made left no doubt that breakage had occurred. If the noise similar to twigs being snapped didn’t do it, the searing pain radiating through my poor little tootsies certainly left no doubt. And of course there was the tell-tale bruising:

I ended up taping my toes together for the next two weeks. I mean, who wants to fork out a co-pay for a visit to the doctor when all they are going to tell you is “Tape your toes together. It’s not like they make a splint for this, you moron.” OK, maybe they wouldn’t say moron, but they definitely would be thinking it.

Last week at the YMCA, I added insult (knee bruises) to injury (broken toes). When picking up the boys from camp, I lost my balance on the stairs because of my broken toes in one foot, and permanent numbness (don’t ask) in the other foot, landing squarely on my knees at the bottom of the stairs. The Y had been kind enough to install a Becky-Rice-is-a-klutz landing mat at the base of the stairs, so I avoided slamming my knees directly on the concrete. Little victories, right?

To top it all off, last night my son Alex flopped onto the couch next to me while we were watching the Olympics. In his floppiness, he failed to clear my foot, which he slammed into with his own (unbroken) toes. I know it was an accident. But then, so was the string of profanity that spewed forth from my mouth.

All you jokers who thought you were in the lead for the klutz of the year award, I have three words for you. Eat. My. Dust.

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Author: A Side of Rice

Married, mom, marketing professional. Loves swearing, pedicures and celebrity meltdowns. Hates making dinner and working the little league concession stand.

3 thoughts on “Eat My Klutz Dust, Bitches

  1. eeek. i bet that does hurt. but, the polish on your toes is a gorgeous color. hopefully, you can still get your pedis in this condition??

  2. Pingback: Panty Hosed « A Side of Rice

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