People, I hope you’re sitting down. I am. As a matter of fact, I’m all prayed up and laid out on the pew in the Lord’s house. I’m a tad distressed and out of sorts. You see, I was walking downtown on Peachtree and Auburn, not as a hooker or homeless person, but as someone who was legitimately trying to transact business. Well, a different kind of business than a hooker, anyway. And do you know what happened? Of course, you don’t, which is why I’m about to tell you.
It’s been a little on the nippy side down here, so what do I do? Hold your horses, I’m about to tell you as soon as I in and exhale…People, I tripped and fell on an uneven groove on the sidewalk. I’m a God-fearing woman, so if you will, imagine the exclamations in my head as I’m lying on the cold sidewalk and people gawking. No one lifted a finger to come to my aid. No real southern gents in the crowd, just spectators.
As you can see from this snippet of a photo, I’m far from being a size zero. And proud of it, thank you very much. Imagine, if you will, the planning it takes for a woman of my fineness to get up, with some semblance of dignity while my stockings (which I was wearing because of the weather) look as if a freight train’s run through them. Take a moment, please…
Usually, it’s quite hilarious when people fall. It gets deep into my funny bones but ask me if I even thought of smiling as I lay sprawled out like roadside kill. I’m truly done for this day and have no grapes on the vine to share with you from Hollywood. I’m scraped up really well and nursing my pride in the nearest safe haven that had an unlocked door. You’d be surprised at the number of churches that are on lockdown. The young minister that welcomed me inside was armed with a shotgun. I thought a wedding ceremony was in progress. Either that or, you know, Preacher Man was into that artillery/sex/bondage combination. There’s a name for people and things of that nature but of course, being a woman of saintly restraints, I wouldn’t know anything in those regards.