I remember thinking it doesn’t get worse than this. I was ass up, bent over a balance beam and swaying back and forth before a sea of ninth graders whose names I didn’t know.
The assignment had been to perform a quick, three-minute gymnastics routine in front of the entire co-ed gym class. Mine, as well practiced as it was, proved to be a harsh lesson in proper foot attire and public humiliation.
It started with me confidently running at full speed toward the springboard. Once in flight, I was careful to position my toes toward the front of the beam so as not to hurdle over it. What I didn’t account for was the fact that athletic socks aren’t the best apparel for gripping anything, least of all a balance beam. Consequently, the second my feet hit the beam, they were ripped away from it and I was sent careening face first toward the ground. On my way down, I caught the beam square beneath the rib cage and was left rocking helplessly over it for what felt like an eternity.
As embarrassing as the fall proved to be, I’m convinced it was made infinitely worse by the fact that I never reached the ground. The seesaw action atop the beam left my ass prominently on display for a good thirty seconds while I recaptured the wind that had been knocked out of me. I also think the humiliation would have been lessened if I'd have had a friend in the class. Someone who, when I crash landed like a wounded pigeon on the beam, could have laughed and yelled something like “nice dismount bitch!” But no, I had no one. All I heard behind me was a collective gasp from the group followed by a whispered “oh shit” from someone in the back row.
Red-faced and badly bruised, I remember sliding myself off the beam, turning to face the stunned audience and restarting my routine as if nothing happened. No words were exchanged and no laughter had to be suppressed. To this day I wonder how painful my first attempt must have looked for this to be the case. My guess? It was on par with the picture shown above.
