Accidents have been a part of my life since the moment of conception. Hell, I am an accident, so I guess its no real wonder why I'm so uncoordinated. I even popped out with the umbilical cord wrapped around my throat, and you've got to admit, that's some accomplishment for a foetus!!
I must have been the nightmare child for my parents (I'm still amazed that even after they had me, they had another two kids- didn't they learn their lesson??). I used to fall over my own feet, bump into doors, walls, bars - you name it, I knocked it! While walking through carparks, my parents would always caution: "Katina, towbar!! Towbar Katina!!!!" moments before I'd walk straight into one.
People used to look at my parents in disgust, thinking that I was the victim of child bashing. Little did they know that my wounds were virtually self-inflicted.
In year two, I was climbing a schoolyard contraption called The Rocket. The Rocket was basically a few log-ladders constructed together to form a rocket. All I had to do was climb it, sit in it, and then pretend to be an astronaut. Easy enough - until I slipped on a rung and fell into a muddy puddle. Mum had to bring in an extra set of clothes for me. (I can not stress the embarrassment of having to change my knickers in Paradise Primary School's sickroom, complete with a windowed door).
When I was eight, I was bragging to a girl called Sophie about learning karate. She didn't believe me, so I went to kick her. I think I may have actually hit her, had I not slipped in the mud puddle and fallen flat on my butt.
The same year, I was racing with friends on the balancing logs. I was almost to the end when I slipped on a log and bruised my inner thigh, and had to be carried to the front office by one of the receptionists.(just try to imagine a tall overweight girl being carried by a lithe 50 something receptionist).
In year eight, at the start of winter, I was running for the bus when I tripped over a rock and skidded about a metre, grazing my hands and my knee. I also attempted starting a trend at the Norwood Morialta Middle School, by arriving with a gaping hole in my pants. Surprisingly, no one took heed of my early fashion statement.
I don't think many people could forget that one rainy day in August when I was on my way to Science, and I tripped over a bench. I did a somersault in the air and slammed my head on concrete, before landing on my bag laden back unconscious. This was only for about a minute or so, but it was enough for teachers to send me home fearing I had concussion.
Speaking of head-banging, my friends have made a pact that they will never ever take me ice-skating or skiing again. The first time that I went skating, I tripped up so many times that water was literally wrung from my jumper. Friends tried to teach me how to skate, by forming a link, where we all held each other's hands, however, I lost my balance, and pulled the whole line down with me! As I was skating off the ice solo, I tripped, slid across the ice, and to the horror of my mother who was watching, slammed headfirst into a barrier.
The first time I went skiing at Mount Thebarton, I got stuck on a slope. An attendant called Todd had to help me get down. After Todd coerced me into taking a forty-five minute lesson, I decided to hit the slopes again. As I went down the slopes, all I could think was how easy it all was. All of a sudden, I was speeding downwards, without any means of stopping myself. I tried to stop myself. But all that I succeeded in doing was somersaulting against a barrier, and suffering mild concussion!!
No matter the temperature differences, I can still cause distaster. My penchant for heated calamaties would probably have to be the iron. My first incident with the iron was when I was eight, and attempted to iron my favourite skirt against the floor. I ended up with a triangular burn on my ankle that lasted over eight months. My second incident with the iron was when I grabbed it whilst the plate was still fairly hot. Surprisingly, I didn't get a scar. Unlike my last burn.
It was mid winter and I was 15, I was cold so I ironed my jeans before I wore them. But once I put them on, my top half was cold, so rather than take my top off and iron it, I ironed the top while it was on me. I couldn't reach the bottom of the top, so I stretched a bit so that I could reach it. Stupid me forgot that it was a low midrift top, and proceeded to scar my tummy - a scar that stayed up until I was almost 18!!
During my lifetime, so many calamities that I could honestly say, I would give Steve Urkel a good run for his money! For more info on disasters, click on the links below, or just wait till my 21st... I'm sure EVERYONE will have plently of stories!!!
And people wonder why I don't play sports...