Diane + Clumsy + Church = Hilarious

I just returned from visiting boomama's blog, and her entry today inspired this submission.

For boomama, sister and other guests outside my immediate family, you should know a few pertinent facts about me.

1.) You may have heard of pleasingly plump? Well, I am rudely fat. Nuff said?

2.) My Mama and Daddy had nicknames and pet names for all us girls. The baby, Lisa, was known as "Cecil",
"Winky"........Me? Well, I was "Joe" and "The Bulldozer".......

3.) I am usually pretty steady on my feet, but WHEN I fall, I do it right, folks.

I go to a Southern Baptist Church, and my story begins about 20 years ago. I was song leader in my church. Song service was over, and the preacher was gathering his notes, bible, etc. to take my place at the pulpit. I was dressed in heels and a mid-length dress. Our microphone was on a stand just off the platform, with the wiring loose on the floor trailing from it. Can you see where I am going with this? As I stepped down the 6 inches or so from the platform, my fashionable high-heel caught a loop of the microphone wire and I very ungracefully somersaulted the 100 yards to the prayer benches that stopped my human derailment. Well, it seemed like a hundred yards, but it was only about 6 feet. If a fat girl could die of embarassment, they would have been preaching my funeral that Tuesday. There was a collective gasp when I started falling, and as I lay sprawled inelegantly on the goose-doo green carpeting with my dress over my head, a few kind souls started from their pews to see if I was okay. But not one of them was my loving family........Oh, no.........You see, they were snorting and guffawing and rolling uncontrollably in various positions on the pews. The only thing hurt was my pride, and it's a good thing, because my loving family would have been absolutely no help that day. I have no idea what the sermon was about that Sunday Morning, and I doubt anybody else there that day could have told you, either.

Thank you, Lord, for pettipants and slips.

Another time, almost a repeat of the above story, I was walking into the sanctuary from the back of the auditorium, carrying my purse in one hand and my bible in the other. I was dressed in heels and a dress, and the purse had handles and a long shoulder strap. I was carrying it by the handles, and the shoulder strap was hanging lower than I realized. I hooked my heel in the strap and rolled all the way to the front pews, this time, with similar reaction from my loving family and fellow Christian brothers and sisters. Only my pride was hurt, again, but almost anyone at my church can tell you about that moment.

Thank you, Lord, for pettipants and slips.

The most recent incident happened during Christmas season, 2004. Our Women's Missionary Union usually goes Christmas carolling every year, and I usually go up to the house and knock on the doors, then lead the chosen Christmas song. We had already been out for some time and had made several stops. It was cold, dark, and several of the ladies had remarked that nature was calling for them. As I approached the porch, it was too dark to see that Sis. Betty's porch had one step leading up to a concrete pad. I didn't see the see the concrete pad and walked right into it, stubbing my toes on the porch and falling flat over on my considerable stomach and my face. The pastor's wife, whom I had went to school with and have known our entire lives, Ducky, Susie and Lisa (my sisters), and the rest of my loving, caring Christian sisters, went hysterical, and not a single one of them came to my aid as I lay there flat on my face on the cold concrete. My OLDEST sister, (ha! got you!) Sue, was leaned over the hood of Sis. Betty's car with her knees crossed, trying not to wet her drawers while she howled like a hyena, and the rest of the women were in similar poses, cackling like a bunch of demented chickens. Got this mental picture set in your mind? Now, in the midst of this, Sis. Betty hears the insane racket outside and comes to the door. She opened the door, saw the other ladies in various positions, convulsed with laughter, but she didn't see me until one of the ladies pointed to me, sprawled on the porch in front of her. She was one confused lady. Finally, some of the sisters of both persasions gathered themselves enough to come check on me. I didn't know it at the time, but I barked my left shin on that concrete pad, and it took 3 months to heal. I still have an ugly scar from it. To this day, if anybody mentions carolling, or Sis. Betty, or almost anything remotely related to that night, they start howling with laughter. All three of my sisters say that even if I had broken a leg and had bones sticking out, they would still have laughed, then come to my rescue. Yeah. Right. Maybe.......

It is interesting to me how some things become legend in our different groups of family and friends, but other episodes are forgotten. Anybody got anything they'd like to add? Cecil, how about you, want to add to my public humiliation with your own comments? ;)

Now that I have written a small novel, I will close for now. I will try to post again in a little while. The bottomless pit calls for me to fill it with something, and the weather is trying to get nasty, so stay tuned for more as circumstances permit.