I am a Klutz.

Hello my name is Morgan and I am a klutz.

I fall down more than any twenty-something should. Nine times out of ten, alcohol isn’t even a factor. I trip walking up stairs, walking down stairs, walking on gravel, walking on concrete, walking on grass, the list goes on and on. A majority of time my legs look like an eight-year-old little boy with scabs and bruises covering them.

I have one pair of shoes that I fall in pretty much every time I put the damn things on my feet. No, they aren’t sky-high stilettos. They actually have no heel at all. They are a pair of red fringe cowboy boots. Yes, Cowboy boots. I don’t know what it is about those damn shoes, but I have quite a few battle wounds to show off from them. Normal people would probably throw the freaking boots away after tumble number ten two in them, but not me. They are way too cute for all that mess!

The day before I left for NYC last month I fell (and I wasn’t even wearing the cowboy  boots!). I was walking into my office and my shoe apparently got caught in a crack on the sidewalk. Down I went. I looked really cute walking around the streets of New York with a scab covering the majority of my knee. Not to mention the fear that the scab would open and I would start bleeding all over the bright white wedding dresses I was trying on. I have a pretty little scar to show for it now.

And then it happened again last night. Chasing after the dog in the backyard, I fell into a hole. A hole that turned out to be about a foot deep. And apparently at the bottom of that hole was a rock. A big ass rock that cut the bottom/side of my foot in about three different places.  I didn’t even realize how bad I had cut my foot at first, since falling is a pretty common thing for me, so I hobbled my way into the house and into the bathroom to wash the mud and dirt off my foot. That is when I noticed the blood. There was a lot of it and it wouldn’t stop. I sent the fiancé in panic mode when I called him to tell him (through tears) that I had fallen and cut myself. He of course came immediately to my aid. Have I ever mentioned how much I love that boy?! Anyway, after cleaning up my wound, and examining the hole to make sure it wasn’t metal that cut open my foot, he bandaged me up and tucked me into bed. Have you ever cut the bottom of your foot? Well, it makes it a real pain in the ass to walk, I can tell you that much. Out of the sixty something pairs of shoes I have in my closet (did I really just admit that? Hello my name is Morgan and I am a shoe addict.) I only have TWO pair that don’t hit my wound. Damnit.

Oh, and I’ll be on a plane to Key West in only a matter of days. I always hurt myself at the worst times. Normal people would probably just leave those pretty little wedges at home at a time like this. Not me. Time to man up I suppose.

I’m going to take some paid medicine.

I’ll try not to fall before we talk again.