Confession Friday

When I was little, I wanted to be a ballerina. I loved the shoes and the costumes and watching the graceful, beautiful dancers. My mom, God love her, was kind enough to never say that I was not graceful enough or tall enough or athletic enough and she let me take lessons. She was kind enough to never point out to me the obvious: that I am a huge klutz and have the gracefulness of a duck. I eventuality got bored and quit, and it wasn't till later that I realized that I would never have been not-a-klutz enough to be a ballerina.

Lucky girls outgrow their awkward klutziness and grow into their adult bodies and lives. Girls like me can grow up and dress up like an adult and get a degree and start a career and have a family, but just can't shake the klutz. Let me give an example.

There is a nice shopping area right near my office building. Recently, I went in to White House|Black Market on lunch and found some cute clothes on their clearance racks. I tried on several outfits, then put my my own dress and heels back on before realizing I hadn't tried on a black skirt I'd picked up. No sense to undress again, right? I'll just slip it on real quick. That is what I thought right before trying to step into the skirt and SLICING the side of my knee open with the heel of my shoe.

So... there I was, standing in the dressing room, leg bleeding, wondering what in the heck I should do now. I mean, I was wearing a dress, so it's not like there are pants to cover it. I scrounged around in my purse and found the little first aid kit I keep in there for the boys. Of course, it's out of band-aids (and if it had them they would probably be brightly-colored cartoon ones anyway). I see there is still an antiseptic wipe, so I try to use that. Only, of course, it is the worlds smallest wipe. Not kidding. It comes in a pack like those regular moist towelettes, but only unfolds once. I had to blot the blood with this tiny, two-inch by one-inch wipe. Oy.

There you have it. These are the kinds of things that happen to me. I know that might not sound so bad, and it wouldn't be if these were only occasional occurrences. But no. I have (epically and like something from a movie) fallen in public more than once. I drop things, bump in to things, bruise, scrape, and maim myself. My name is Trischa, and I'm a klutz.

Over 10 years have gone by...

Well I was crazy about you then
And now the craziest thing of all
Over 10 years have gone by
And you're still mine

- Jack Johnson (From the song Do You Remember)

So, I have never been the kind of person who gushes about my relationship. And, frankly, I find the people who do to be unbelievably annoying. I'm not talking about sharing from time-to-time a very sweet or thoughtful gesture like, "My husband knew I was tired and got up with the kids this morning so I could sleep in."

No. The ones I'm talking about are the people who are constantly saying out loud or posting things on Facebook like, "I can't believe how perfect and romantic and good-looking and amazing my significant other is and how I'm the luckiest and most blessed and most perfect person for getting to be with them!!!!!!!!!!" Or something similar. You get the point. I mean, I just have to wonder if these people really feel that way or if they just think they are supposed to feel that way and are trying to convince everyone, including themselves, that they do. I think the whole Hollywood-romantic-fantasy-and-grand-gesture thing has gotten to the brains of some people.

Anyway, rant over. I really got off-topic. I really just meant to say all that to make the point that you will rarely hear me gush about my husband or see me posting things about our relationship. I think that a relationship is between two people and while it is fine to share with friends something frustrating or something great, it really isn't something that should be talked about or posted about all the time and for everyone to hear/see.

That said, I would just like to take a moment to say that yesterday was our ten year wedding anniversary. I know that all anniversaries are special, but something about making it to the decade mark just seems like such a big deal to me. I was ridiculously excited about it and probably gushed a little too much (yet hopefully not to the point of annoyance), but... TEN YEARS! And I have to say that I love my husband more now than I did way back when we were 23 and 22 and fresh out of college and getting married. We aren't perfect and we certainly don't have it all figured out, but somehow we work and he has put up with me all this time and I am really very thankful for that.