This may come as a surprise, but I am not that coordinated. In fact, I think that there may have been some mention of this in my preschool screening evaluation. Honestly, I am not sure why my parents did not embark on a regimen of balance and motor skill improvement exercises while I was still under the age of five.
Actually, they did put me in tumbling classes. Oh, and my dad actually coached me in little kid soccer. They may have even let me take ballet lessons. As it turns out, the problem may be more mental than physical.
If I recall correctly, the problem with tumbling was that I lacked the confidence to hurl myself head first at the mat to perform a cartwheel.
The problem with soccer was that while I understood the basic rules, I was irritated with the ridiculous obsession with avoiding hand/arm contact with the ball. Seriously, why not just tie our hands behind our backs?
Ballet was a bit simpler than the rest - they gave me a blue skirt. I had grown up using my mom's old dance costumes as Halloween costumes and for general dress up. These were no simple costumes - they were legitimate tutus. I had big dreams of leaping across stages in pointy toe shoes and flouncy tutus.
The reality for me was far less glamorous. We wore our own leotards and only got floppy flat ballet shoes. But the worst indignity? They gave us gauzy skirts to wear over our leotards. These skirts came in two colors: pink and blue. We were not given our choice of color. Can you guess what Megan was given? Blue. The color of boy things. It did not sit well with me. My friends and I quit ballet shortly after this, but my skirt received a second life as a prop for dressing up my youngest brother.
Moving on from childhood memories, I find that I am severely lacking when it comes to creativity in home decorating. Oh, I have pictures on the wall and my furniture matches. Unfortunately, when it comes to paint and accessories, I have no idea what I am doing.
To illustrate this, let me share that although I have lived in my house for almost seven years, the walls are all still white. Every time I think about choosing color and coordinating the active painting portion of things, I balk. It's so much easier to just let it be. I rationalize that if and when I do ever prepare to sell my house, I will most certainly paint. My additional rationalization is that this way I can avoid any potential damage that may occur if I live with the new paint color. As I have already stated, I am not coordinated. My walls bear witness to the times that I have run into them with pieces of furniture, luggage or shoes.
For my final example, I will bring up knitting. Yes, I can do a basic knit stitch which in turn leads to the only item I can create with said stitch: a scarf. I would love to know how to purl and then to create other items such as hats, mittens, sweaters, slippers, etc. Actually, I have been shown how to purl and do have access to people with the necessary skills to show me how to move beyond scarfage. Unfortunately, I lack the memory and talent to remember how to do this when on my own. It is hard enough for me to remember how to cast on.
I hope that now that I have shared some of my shortcomings with the world that my readers will be kind and considerate of my diminished capacities. I promise that there are things that I can do well. Foosball is one. Typing is another. My ability to alphabetize is also quite impressive. Let me know if you need demonstrations of any of these skills. You know where to find me.
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