with these these shoes..
Uh, sidenote: If my husband ever asks, I found these at 'Target'. ((wink)). Just a joke, of course. I don't promote lying. (I know you know that, but Mama will be here in a few days and I don't want to hear her lecture...)
Anyway, I slipped into my sneakers to go for a brisk walk at lunch. I walk a block and I slightly tripped - not a bad trip, mind you. I looked around and no one even noticed. Good. That could have been really embarrasing.
I walk another block and I trip and come THISCLOSE to falling - I got so close to the ground that I was able to catch myself before I hit the pavement.
By this time the above dress had ridden up my thighs, and I am sure the Washington DC tourists walking behind me caught a glimpse of my non-designer granny panties.
Trust me - my butt is NOT a National Treasure.
I wish I could tell you that the reason I tripped was because the sidewalks looked like this....
But no, it pretty much looks like this:
As smooth as a baby's behind. So, no excuse. I'm just clumsy. Or just a reminder from God. Keep going, you'll understand in a minute.I picked myself back up, smoothed my dress, paused, and did a curtsey. I've learned to recover well from mis-haps in my life. I've had lots of practice. I started early. At 14 to be exact.
I was a baton twirler in high school.
Oh, my goodness I just thought I was the cutest thing there ever was in that sparkly little red number I wore. (Isn't pride one of the 7 deadliest sins - or would this fall under vanity?)
So, it's the half time show - the band starts to play - I start to strut and twirl- and plop! I fall flat on my behind. Did I mention that it had rained all day and the field was muddy?