Wednesday, November 21, 2012

Confessional Tuesday on Wednesday

I am a drunk walker.

Oh, I’m sorry, you don’t know what that is?  Well, it’s because it’s a term I made up. 

A drunk walker is one who walks as if she is drunk even when she is not.  The person can be walking along, and then all of a sudden lose her balance and stumble, or twist her legs a la Bambi on Ice.  I can barely cross a room without falling down or stumbling over something, like my feet.  Every trip down stairs is a courageous act.  I’m not afraid of heights, but I avoid them because if I’m not tethered, it is likely that I will fall to my death. 

This lack of sure-footedness is hereditary.  My grandmother is also a drunk walker.  Some years ago she lost the vision in one of her eyes, so she has no depth perception, which makes her even more of a drunk walker.  It became more of a problem for her as she aged, because of breaking legs, hips, and ankles and all of that, which not funny unless you think it’s hilarious when elderly ladies fall down, and in that case you are rude.  I have passed the gene to my son, who has a rare talent of standing still and suddenly falling to the floor in a loud cracking heap.

And that is funny.

The biggest problem with being a drunk walker is, naturally, the heightened chance that you will hurt yourself.  At any given moment I will have an angry bruise sneaking a peek at you from under a sleeve or pant leg.  It’s grotesque.  Likewise, at any given moment I will injure a toe or ankle, causing a limp that lingers for days.

The other problem with being a drunk walker is that people may assume you’re drunk when you’re not.  I can be drinking water at a party and still hear comments like “whoa, feeling good, aren’t we?” and “yo bartender, cut her off!” as I struggle to stay vertical.  No one believes that a person who stumbles so much is totally sober.

And there’s not much you can do about that but humor people and carry a bottle everywhere.
 
 
 
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