My neighbor said the oddest thing to me tonight. She said I was graceful.
(Quit laughing, family)
I took a moment to envision myself as a graceful person and came up empty. Even my potent imagination, fed a steady diet of Dr Seuss, couldn't summon the picture. This. Is. Me.
When the doctor handed out an MS diagnosis, his sticky fingers managed to pickpocket my balance. I miss it dearly and found, sadly, that while informercials offer an unholy host of useless items, they've yet to advertise Balance in a Box ($19.99 and your firstborn, plus shipping).
I eventually tuned back into my neighbor's kind and utterly undeserved praise and learned she was speaking about a different sort of grace. Which is good since she herself has witnessed my unusual, unplanned and entirely uncoordinated flailings down the steps. She thinks I have 'the package.' I've got it all together.
(Stop snorting, family)
Naturally, I had to scoff, pointing out the bad teeth, severe scoliosis and that pesky MS, (plus the early gray, the lack of mate, offspring or desirable... endowments) Yup. I've got it together. Yet this doesn't deter her from elevating me to pageant queen status. Because I appear to be satisfied, she tells me. I have problems, like everyone else on the planet, but they don't seem to get me down. And seemingly lend me a floating, Zen-like movement that even the constant stumbling can't ruin. She envies me.
Yikes. But in the end (and after much consideration) I suppose there's something to it. Despite all the woes, I am rather content. And apparently it shows up as grace. It means quite a lot that someone who doesn't know me well finds in the outer appearance something that speaks to the inner pieces. It makes me glad to know I'm conveying positivity without opening my mouth.
Maybe I can be a ballerina yet!