The Electric Slide and the panty hose

Movies have ruined me. You know what I mean. The perfect moment, the perfect exchange of words, the perfect music playing in the background, the perfect resolution to the drama and the perfect ending. I live in reality, yet I am convinced that my life should play out like a movie and when it doesn't, I am left to wonder what happened! I have even gone as far as to pick what music would be playing in the background of some of the more dramatic scenes in my life. I don't know if my life as a movie would be a blockbuster hit, but it would certainly be hysterical! Yep, movies have ruined me.

I am sure that all of you have had those perfect moments in time when, like the movies, all things conspire for your good and everything goes exactly like you planned. Those are what I call "movie moments." In my world, I must admit that I have been blessed with many movie moments. However, I have found that in the time surrounding these moments is when my flictedness is most apparent and I am reminded, yet again, that my life is not like the movies, nor should it be :)

Before I continue, I must mention the fact that I have been blessed with the greatest friends and family in the entire world. They all love and care for me in so many ways and this fact becomes more evident to me everyday I am still here to live and breathe and love and learn. My love for these dear souls will be an emerging theme as you follow the life of the Flicted Friend.

So, let me illustrate by sharing two experiences, one happened just this weekend and the other, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away . . .

On Friday night, I had a lengthy conversation with a dear friend. My heart was full and somewhat heavy and this friend listened and shared with love and concern. It was very meaningful to me. In the end, my heart was lifted and I felt renewed. It was a movie moment.

After the conversation, I hopped out of the car and walked to the stairs leading up to my apartment door. I started up the stairs, head held a little higher and a slight spring in my step. However, my shoes were a little loose and my newfound stride was a bit too quick. I tripped on one of the last stairs and stumbled up to the landing. No damaged ankles or wrists but I was left to laugh out loud at my anti-climatic, less that triumphant resolution to the evening.

Upon entering my apartment, I was left to consider other such scenes in my past. That bobble reminded me of another moment in my not-so-movie-like life.

Take your minds back to May 1988. I was finishing my eighth grade year at Biscoe Middle School. Like most schools, we had our share of somewhat silly traditions. The eighth grade prom was one: the country club, the dance, the dress, the date, the pictures, the parents, and so on. At that moment in time, it was an important event in my life and so it had the potential to become one of those movie moments.

I had found the perfect dress: knee-length, powder blue with white polka dots and a poofy skirt supported by many yards of crinoline. I had chosen to accessorize this magnificent dress with a pink cumber bun and a pair of two-inch, pink heels. (It was the late eighties so I wouldn't have looked like a clown for another decade :)

The night came and my parents dropped me off at the country club. The foreshadowing couldn't have been more obvious as I wobbled in those two-inch heels up the stairs and into the gala event. After about ten minutes in those shoes, I had had my fill of life in a pair of heels. They were neatly tucked with my other things under a chair in the corner. I was left, scurrying around to all my friends in my stocking feet. The dance played out like most middle school dances, a beautiful blend of awkwardness and silliness sprinkled with bursts of fun and laughter. Most of the details are fuzzy except for the Electric Slide.

The music came on and for one brief moment, everyone was dancing. I think about it now and I am laughing so hard, I am crying. Imagine a room full of fourteen-year-olds doing the Electric Slide in a myriad of bad eighties clothes while teachers and parents watched with awe. Well, you can all imagine where I was: in the front, leading the group, laughing and singing loudly. It was a lot of fun, a movie moment.

However, as I have been reminded over and over again, my life is not like the movies. In the middle of the song, on one of the turns or steps or shuffles, the hard wood floors and the stocking feet conspired against me and I found myself, in a heap, on the floor, poofy skirt, pink cumber bun and all.

I suppose it could have been a tragedy and I could have left crying and humiliated but what good would that have done? I got up, and finished the song and learned an important lesson about two-inch heels, stocking feet and hard wood floors. It was even rumored that one of the parents had gotten the whole thing on tape, which I still have never seen, but perhaps someday it will surface :)

In all honesty, I am grateful for these not-so-movie-like experiences. In a way, they have been the building blocks to my character. So what if I fell down at the eighth grade prom or the million and one other bobbles I have made in my days on the planet? It's not like I'm not going to quit falling. It's hysterical and is just reminder that I shouldn't take myself too seriously. Plus, every time I fall, I have a choice. I can either get up, laugh and keep dancing or quit and go home. Most times, I keep laughing and dancing. I think if my life were a movie, people would much rather see someone get up and keep going rather than quit. And, I suppose if that is the case, maybe some of my not-so-move-like-flicted-moments are actually real movie moments after all!