Recently I asked Chris how he was so much smarter than me (again, slow on the role genetics plays in one's life). It seems I always pose the question that is the exception to the "there are no stupid questions" rule. He paused, pondered and very diplomatically replied, "You know, I wonder some of the same things you do, I just give myself time to figure it out before I speak."
After a good laugh, I realized that the number of times I have acted or spoken before pausing to figure things out is staggering. Something pops into my mind and without taking time to fully process it, I expose my lack of forethought.
My most humiliating example is the time I asked a woman when her baby was due. You must know where this is going. Imagine my mortification when she replied that she wasn't pregnant. She was amazingly classy and did everything she could to ease my obvious discomfort, but in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be swallowed whole by some spontaneously produced chasm in the Earth. Since that regretful day, I no longer assume any woman is pregnant, even after she has told me to my face that she is expecting a baby. I'd just rather not go down that embarrassing road again.
Other times, what I say isn't all that humiliating, it's just unexpected and maybe a little odd. It is absolutely not out of the ordinary for me to tell the cashier at the grocery store that she has beautiful eyes or the teller at the bank that her complexion is flawless. A few weeks ago, a friend and I were power walking through her neighborhood and a very attractive, older woman ran past us. Her silver hair was stylishly cut in a bob, her legs were fit, and she looked amazing in her running shorts and shirt. Without even hesitating, I turned and called to her, "You are stunning!". Her pace faltered a bit and she cocked her head as if she didn't hear me, but then got an incredulous look on her face and said "Thank you!". I have no filter, I suppose, for better or worse.
Sometimes though, it isn't even my words that get me into sticky situations, but rather, my actions. One day, after a hard workout, I settled into the tub and realized that my butt was stinging. I jumped out and stood on the rim of the tub, water dripping everywhere, to get a better view of my rear in the mirror. As I twisted myself like a carnival contortionist, I discovered I had a "spot" on one side of the top of my butt crack. Quizzically, I wondered what it was and how I might have gotten it. I truly was clueless.
Because I have a history of weird skin reactions and rashes, as well as three, oftentimes grungy boys in my home, I promptly called my dermatologist and wanted to make an appointment for her to check it out. Typically, she wasn't in the office that week, but I was able to see a new, male doctor. As I perched on the table with him examining my backside, he said that he really had no idea what it was, but that it wasn't ringworm,impetigo,staph or any other sort of disgusting skin disease. I felt a mixture of relief and embarrassment flush through me. I thanked him sheepishly and quickly hightailed my tail out of there.
Two days later, after another grueling workout, I settled into my bath and my bottom stung again! I hopped out and awkwardly examined things only to find another spot on the other side of my butt crack! I was indignant and angry that the doctor had misdiagnosed the condition, as whatever it was had obviously spread. Sporting symmetrical "spots" on my ass, I revisited the office, this time seeing my regular doctor. As she examined and considered all options, she finally said, "Macy, I really don't think this is anything. Honestly, it looks like a friction burn to me. Have you done anything to cause friction?". In that instant, I knew immediately what had happened.
My two previous workouts had involved an ass load of sit ups involving a heavy medicine ball. Truly, I'd done over one hundred sit ups at those workouts and in doing so, had rubbed friction burns on my bottom!
As I handed over my credit card to cover my co pay for the second time that week, I realized that I should have thought things through a bit longer before rushing to the doctor in a frenzied panic. I also realized that the doctors in that office were going to have a great laugh at my expense. I could hear their conversations in my head, "She said it was sit ups" and then bouts of hysterical, bowled over laughter with much eye rolling. In hindsight, I should have stopped and considered all plausible scenarios. I should have remembered the massive amounts of sit ups, should have taken my anatomically flat ass into account. But no, that would require, um, well...too much thought.
Chris is right. It's wise to take time to assess a situation before speaking or acting. And I will do my best to master those important life skills. Yet, I'm sure I'm bound to embarrass myself again, either through the spoken word or the unbridled, reactionary ways I display. I'll throw myself out there at the mercy of friends and strangers alike, always good for a laugh. Well, unless of course, I mistake someone for being pregnant. There's nothing funny about that at all.
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