More Than a Little Terrified

I'm uncoordinated.

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.

But Zumba....

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.