A Pretty Ballerina Am I

I guess it was inevitable…

I am on the verge of becoming one of those silly monsters that blog only about their excuses for NOT blogging. Sigh.

So, instead of filling your head with all of my pretty excuses (good,applicable, and slightly exaggerated as they may be), I’ve decided to tell you a bit about something that has absolutely NOTHING to do with my not blogging as regularly as I ought and EVERYTHING to do with the reason why I stopped wearing my pretty pink tutu and diamonique-encrusted tiara out in public.

You see…

I fall down in movie theaters.

As a matter of fact, I only fall down in movie theaters.

Now, I’ve never been what one might consider the epitome of all that is gracefulness and  coordination. Well, perhaps I should clarify that…

I may not have ever been up for the lead in Swan Lake but, for
all intents and purposes, am not what one would call clumsy per say. I
mean, I can work a pair of appropriately inched stilettos like nobody’s
business but definitely have what I refer to as my Bridget Jones
moments (although I’m not quite fully convinced that they’re either
embarrassing or British enough to be equally as endearing).
However, as bumbling as I may sometimes appear to be, it’s never been
really much of a concern or call for any reaction more serious than a
red face or two. Unless, of course, there’s a full house and it’s
opening night of a long-awaited sequel- then I’m guaranteed nothing
short of a red face, a skinned knee or two, and, of course, a
bruised… ego.

Once, in a moment of mis-direction and mis-understanding (the top
portion of my body was heading out the north exit while the lower half
had a decided preference for the east), I fell flat on my face in front
of a rather morbid crowd of about 150 perky teenagers. (Scream
1996)

Another time, during an ending credit-inspired mass exodus of about
200, I stood only to realize rather belatedly that BOTH of my legs were
asleep from mid-thigh down. Peter fondly recalls of me "being there one
second… then not." I’ve yet to forgive him for all of that pointing
and laughing business though. (Cruel Intentions 1999)

And a more recent Hall of Shame moment occurred at the hands of Spiderman 3,
where I somehow mistook air for a stair and then proceeded to fall down
a small flight of actual stairs (which, unlike their predecessor, were
made of something quite substantial like concrete) . Luckily, it was
the late feature; and the packed seats sat mainly adults who tend to
snicker rather than cackle with glee at the silly lady who doesn’t know
how to walk.

So, perhaps I should close this entry with a solemn promise to blog
more often and movie-go more less… But I’d much rather go and dig up
that old tiara and tutu and upgrade the Netflix account instead.
I hope you all are well!

May 21, 2007
Categories: Only Judith


1.©2007 by Courtney Hebert as Judith Shakespeare.
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3.Blog title courtesy of Oscar Wilde, pseudonym Virginia Woolf, design JudithShakes.