It goes beyond that really. I'm clumsy and awkward. I break things. Things like bones and cell phones and glasses. I drop stuff. I bruise easily.
I can't dance.
I think I can. I think there may have been a few times when I was drunk enough or distracted enough by other goings on to let loose and not worry about making a fool of myself. I think there were a couple of times when I may have swayed back and forth and it might have been mistaken for artful interpretation of a beat.
Wow. I do not rock at that.
Thank god no one has to see me but me.
I think they would run away. Fast.
Have you ever seen the episode of Friends where Phoebe runs awkwardly and Monica is embarrassed to be seen running with her? I'm thinking I look kind of like that, with a slight pseudo-Latin flair because of the background music.
I scare myself with my dancing.
What I'm even more afraid of is the scale.
I bought one today. I need to put batteries in it, but I know it will be bad when I actually step on.
I'll do it in a few minutes. Or I'll wait until tomorrow. I am hoping that I don't flip out when I see the number, but I'm afraid that's exactly what is in store.
I have a vague notion of what the number may be but I have a very poor ability to assess my body when I compare it to others. There are people I think are roughly my size that are much heavier or lighter than I am. I think nearly everyone who isn't me looks fine and I look terrible. If I am ever confident about any aspect of my body I find ways to sabotage it by comparing it to someone else or by holding it up to a completely unobtainable standard.
I should step on the scale and know what I'm dealing with.
But I have to find some batteries.
That's going to take me awhile.