When I was little, I used to imagine that I’d grow up to be an extremely graceful young woman. I begged my parents to let me take a ballet class, and the only thing I remember from that is getting into a fight with a girl over ballet shoes (I don’t even remember if the shoes were mine). Later, I took gymnastics, and I’m certain I was the laziest gymnast in the history of the sport.
At this point in my life, it’s obvious that grace and poise will never be among my strong suits. I have poor balance, pathetic spatial perception, and I seem to be a magnet for awkward or embarrassing situations. Case in point:
Last week, I realized I was out of almost every necessary toiletry, so I ran out to pick some up. I had gathered up the majority of the things I needed and handed them off to a nice employee who offered to hold them at the counter. The last item on my list was lotion. As I stood in front of a giant display, the Shimmery Coconut lotion caught my eye. Not because I thought I might want to buy it, but because I wondered, “How shimmery is ‘shimmery’?” It was in one of those pump-style bottles on the top shelf of the display (about 4 inches above my head). I pressed on the pump of the tester bottle a couple times, but nothing came out. So I pressed harder. In what seemed like slow motion, I watched a stream of lotion rocket out of the bottle, over my hand, and hit me square in the forehead. It was everywhere. In my bangs. On my nose. In my eye. And, as I suspected, “shimmery” was very shimmery. I cleaned myself up as best I could, casually paid for everything with an extremely sparkly face, and hurried home. And for days afterward, I was craving coconut. Finally, I figured out what I wanted: macaroons!