The Firebirds (2012 Golden Heart finalists) are back for the April edition of Writer Wednesday. For this month’s prompt, we’re sharing our most embarrassing moments, putting them out there for the world to see. Crazy, huh? But I really believe two of the secrets of enjoying life are not being too uptight and being able to laugh at yourself when you look like an idiot.
Most of my embarrassing moments stem from my being somewhat of a klutz. I’ve always had a talent for tripping over my own feet. Usually it’s just my pride that’s hurt.
You know how it is. You trip or turn your ankle, or whatever the case may be, and the first thing you do is look around to see who might have witnessed your humiliation. Less important things, like checking for dislocated joints or broken limbs, can wait until later. Of course, there is ALWAYS someone there to witness it. That’s Murphy’s law.
I remember when I was a young teen walking to the bus stop. I was checking out this really cute guy, and I had on those platform shoes that were so popular at the time. (You know where this is going.) One minute, I was sashaying down the street, giving him my sweetest smile, and the next I was sprawled in the grass with my books scattered around me.
I wish I could say that I’ve totally outgrown my klutziness, but unfortunately, I haven’t. Some time back, I spent seven weeks on crutches after turning my ankle on a step. Walking on flat surfaces with crutches is pretty easy. Navigating steps can be tricky. Going up, your good foot leads. Coming down, your crutches lead. One step at a time. No shortcuts.
My first Sunday down off the platform at church, I hadn’t yet figured out the “no shortcuts” part of the equation. With my crutches on the bottom step, I decided to step right down to the floor. Except I couldn’t reach the floor. So I sailed through the air, making this smooth, graceful arc to land on my knees in the front pew. The preacher moved right into his message as if the pianist wasn’t kneeling, conspicuously facing the congregation, and when I turned around to look at my minister-of-music husband, he was still standing on the top step of the platform shaking his head.
A couple of weeks ago, I posted that I was a finalist for a RITA. (The RITA is like the Oscars of romance writing.) A formal awards ceremony will be held at the Romance Writers of America conference in San Diego this summer. When the winners’ names are announced, they walk up on stage, accompanied by their editors, give a short speech and accept their award. If I win, my thought processes will go something like this—What? Oh, my goodness! Did they just call my name? Aaaaahhhh!!!! Oh, God, please don’t let me trip, please don’t let me trip, please don’t let me trip…
What about you? Any embarrassing moments you’d like to share? Check out the links below to see how some of my writer friends have embarrassed themselves over the years.