Becoming a woman

by Katie on May 21, 2011

Way back when, ten oops, just three years ago, Brandon and I were deep in the midst of the drudgery that is registering for wedding gifts. Namely, plates to eat on. Semi-important to have in a home.

We visited one actual department store during all this (as opposed to Target and Bed, Bath & Beyond), but found the only selections we had any interest in whatsoever were “seasonal”. Code for, don’t count on it being in the store ever again.

Which would be fine. For most people. I mean, who needs to buy more of the same nice dishes?

But Brandon quickly escorted me out of the store. I think his words to the sales lady were, “I don’t think so.”

When I asked for an explanation, he reminded me what we dealing with here.

Me. Perhaps the single-most clumsy, ungraceful woman to walk the earth.

He said, “Katie, you’re going to break these dishes. We both know it. No way are we going to buy a set we can’t replace a plate or bowl in somewhere along the way.”

And I had to admit he had a very valid point.

Only, it turns out, I’ve done much better than expected. Until just recently anyway.

I had yet to break a single anything until just a few months ago. Since then, though, I’ve broken three glasses. Three. In less than five months.

The most notable of those being just yesterday.

I was mopping, and had a glass of water I was moving throughout the house with me to take a drink here and there. I was finishing up in the office, headed out to the laundry room, when I spun around too quickly.

…And crash. The glass went flying off the table it was resting upon, sending water and shards of glass across my freshly mopped floor.

But then I took a second to process exactly how this had happened. It wasn’t an uncontrolled limb that went flying through the air this time, assailing any objects in its path.

No.

The culprit? My rear-end.

Whooooaaaa.

Hello, womanhood.

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