Wiffleball and Grace

I have known my entire life that I am less than graceful. I spent an entire week at cheer leading camp in the 9th grade trying to do a cart wheel. I must have extra gravity as I really like being close to the ground. I am constantly tripping over my feet, falling down the stairs, bumping into walls. I even have to be careful how high a heel I wear so I don't fall off it. Such has been my life.

Last week for YM/YW combined activity we played wiffleball inside the cultural hall. Being competitive and "less than graceful" don't mix well. Especially on a floor so slippery it could be used as an ice skating rink. I watched carefully to see how to hit the ball so I could get on base. Finally it was my turn and I was excited because I had a plan to outsmart the other team. I hit the ball straight down so it would bounce around and give me a chance to run to first. That was my first mistake as I am not exactly moving at lighting speed these days. After my great hit, I put my head down and was off to first base. After a few steps as I pushed off to get myself really moving, my foot slipped which propelled me forward. I tried to catch up to my fall but could not get my fatness moving fast enough to catch up. I was running with my arms out in front of me and all the YW thought I was trying to slide into first base (just 20 ft early). I landed face first on the gym floor, whacking my brow bone. It was a good thing my knees, elbows, shoulders and knuckles all hit the floor first to break up my fall or it could have been really bad.

After a late night visit to the ER for some stitches and a never ending headache all is well. However, Mr.McDreamy's reality check was not so pleasant. He asked me when I was going to stop acting like a 20 year old. A 20 year old???? What about a 12 or 2 year old like it used to be. Facing reality is not pretty, especially with stitches and a slightly black eye.