Assuming that a karmic do-over is possible, I’ve decided that in my next life I want to be graceful instead of beautiful.
It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed being one of the beautiful people. Believe me, I appreciate how important winning the genetic lottery can be! Imagine if I had to work one of those tedious boring jobs because nobody thought I was interesting, ugh. Imagine always being on the B team because taller better looking people have better ideas and friends that choose!
But clumsiness, it turns out, is no picnic either. People immediately assume you are mentally challenged in some way when you trip over your own feet, or fall while going Up the stairs. And dropsiness? Don’t get me started on the things I have broken because I was distracted.
I once dropped a glass of cloudy water-paint water into the toilet, simultaneously breaking the glass and obscuring it in one whack. How many times have I stepped on that poor cat? Just completing simple tasks becomes so complicated when you are constantly knocking over things on your own desk. How many times can a person pick up the same dropped pen?
Graceful is definitely better. The next go around doesn’t even have to be prima ballerina territory, either. Just less of whatever this is, thank you.