If it was truly survival of the fittest, I’d be a goner


I’m the reason there are danger signs.

I’m the reason why bottles have warning labels on them.

I’m the reason there’s waivers for every stupid arse thing you could possibly do during the most mundane activity.

Thankfully (knock on wood) I’ve rarely hurt myself. I know my limits. I don’t engage in anything that might hurt me—which means I miss out on some fun things. For example, I’ve never:

  • jumped off Indian Falls in Newburne
  • skydived (skydove?)
  • licked a car battery
  • skateboarded
  • raced my car
  • gotten a tattoo
  • went ziplining
  • hunted

I’m just so clumsy. I have the hand-eye coordination of a five-month-old baby. For example, I can generally get things in my mouth (otherwise I’d starve).

If there’s a stone in the middle of a field, you can bet I will fall over it.

If there’s a mole hole in the middle of a field, you can bet I will roll my ankle in it.

I’ve fallen downstairs.

I’ve fallen upstairs.

I think this is a particularly amazing feat.

Once I had to get stitches on my chin because the steps in question were concrete. At least this time, I could blame my clumsiness on ice. And running. And having that running foot connect with the ice.

I don’t bruise easily. But then there’s the case of the random bruises. I don’t worry about them; chances are, I ran into a wall and forgot about it.

If I had a dollar for every time my hand just happened to swing into a wall, door, cupboard, or chair, I’d have my student loan paid in full.

I’m very happy that I don’t bruise or get hurt easily because I’m a borderline hypochondriac.

Banging my head usually involves panicked moments of assessing whether or not I might have a blood clot on my brain. I have yet to shine a light into the pupils, though, to check for a brain injury. Maybe it’s because I’m scared of what I’ll find—that maybe I’m already brain injured and that’s why I have no hand-eye coordination.

And so, when I bought my car and demanded side impact air bags, it should have been no surprise to anyone.

It’s because air bags were made for people like me.

Along with seatbelts, Band-Aids, ice packs, life insurance, bubble wrap, Epsom salts, and chocolate chip cookies.


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