I Fell on My Face

Last night, I fell on my face. I do not mean that in the figurative sense (e.g. when people usually say, “I tripped and fell on my face.”) I mean that I fell, and the first part of my body to hit the ground, and thus absorb the shock, was my face. Specifically, it was the side of my right orbital socket and my right cheekbone. It did not feel good. How does one go about falling on one’s face?

Well, it takes just the right circumstances. In this case, I had just attempted painting French tips on my toenails. Mimi was peering under furniture and meowing, the way she does when she has trapped her favorite toy (a plastic ring) in a spot she cannot reach. Usually, I get down on my hands and knees to look under the tables and couches. This time, I didn’t want to mar my pedicure, so I just bent at the waist and lowered my head. At some point, I lost my balance and caught myself with my face. Did I mention our floors are wood? Did I mention I FELL ON MY FACE!

Today I feel like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, because, despite the beating I took, I have no bruising. In fact, were it not for my internet indiscretion, no one would even know what a klutz I am! I just can’t stop wondering, why didn’t I break my fall with my hands?