Everyone Falls (Well, I Do. A Lot.)

 

Was anyone else totally caught up in the endless Hills reruns/”Most Memorable Moments” special this weekend? I was completely immersed and got excited for the new season in the process.

Here’s one of my stand-out moments from The Hills: Poor Whitney’s fall on Good Morning America at the end of Season 2. On a show where the characters tool around in BMWs, wear fantasy clothes, and are impossibly pretty (well, most of them), Whitney’s spill was one of the few relatable moments for me.

I fall. All the time, actually. I slip off curbs. I end up sprawled on the sidewalk after stepping into a hole. I’ve fallen down a flight of stairs in the library (all alone, mercifully) and down the subway steps at rush hour, with my purse’s contents spilling everywhere and a bunch of strangers rushing to my aid.

I fall so much that just seeing stairs causes me anxiety. I hold on to the hand railing if I can and I move to the side when someone in a hurry is breathing down my neck. But sometimes there is no railing. Sometimes there is sand, as there was at the beach-themed restaurant where I had dinner last week. This place had pounds of sand all over the floor (clever!) and, on the way out, I slipped down the stairs. I went down hard and scraped my elbow. The jerky guy I was with, rather than seeing if I was okay, laughed at me.

I wish I could have recovered as gracefully as Whitney, but I just got up and limped away, pissed off, red-faced, and bleeding from the elbow. Oh well.

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