Recently, I fell into a pothole. While I wish that was a metaphor, it’s not, because my life is actually a dumpster fire that refuses to burn out. Either way, I like to think that God personally chose me to fall into the San Andreas Fault in front of a group of innocent bystanders and a homeless man with a megaphone attached to the top of his van.
Before I made my way into what appeared to be a tunnel leading to the center of the Earth’s core, I was studying the famous “Venice” sign in Venice Beach. I’ve only been there once before, so I may be incorrect in my musings, but I think there should be a slogan underneath it that says: “VENICE: We’ve got bearded ladies, struggling artists, spiritual guides, and a legless girl riding a skateboard. Here’s a crystal with obsidian flakes fused inside of it. That’ll be $75.00, please.”
It could be expensive to fit all of that in, though, so I kind of understand why they didn’t fully expand on it. Either way, the sign seemed to embody an alien with a toupee and ill-fitting suit on, who was trying to introduce itself to people at a party as, “Jeff from Kansas City.”
I wasn’t buying it.
As my eyes focused on the Pride-related rainbow-colored sign, I failed to realize that I was about to be Sashayed Away into a dark abyss the size of a recently discovered black hole.
I was trying to be very sexy and confident that night, but that all turned into a shit show, per usual, due to my inability to just, you know, not make an idiot out of myself. As a tripped over two shifting tectonic plates, my ankle and dignity snapped off of my body and fell into a gutter somewhere.
Unfortunately, for me, I was wearing a very short dress that exposed a lot of side boob. Something about a little side boob really does it for the boys, but it’s a lot less hot when your utters just completely fall out into the street.
I’m talking about the kind of scene that parents shield their children’s eyes from. This was full-blown XXX-rated, NSFW. I honestly should’ve been compensated for my work, but not even a single person threw a dirty dollar bill at me.
As I fell, which felt like a solid 27 minutes, each of my boobs plopped out, one by one. Total exposure via clumsy hoof feet leaves a lot less to the imagination. Thankfully, I have great boobs, so I was less embarrassed about flashing a group of people, but that didn’t stop my entire ass from also mimicking this behavior in front of Megaphone Man.
I mean, seriously, what are the chances that I not only fall into a pothole, but fall into a pothole in front of someone who is narrating the entire thing via loudspeaker? Only this shit happens to me.
There I was, humiliated, exposed, vulnerable, hurting, and horrifically embarrassed, but I chose to laugh it off, rather than Scarlett O’Hara the hell out this scene in front of a group of strangers, because frankly my dear, my entire areola was gleaming under the moonlight, which was dramatic enough for me.
I wanted everyone to know that I was not intoxicated, so I yelled very loudly, “I wish I was drunk!” which didn’t exactly seem believable, considering I just face-planted into a giant crevice the size of a full-length Shaquille O’Neal.
My rebel yell was proceeded by quickly stuffing my boobs back into where they belonged and picking up my scraped-up, bleeding knees off the gritty, sage-burning streets of Venice.
The people of this weird part of LA had really let me down. I thought there was enough crystals in Venice to protect me from anything, but I guess I was wrong.
This whole night was a total blow to my already, apparently fragile, ego. I say that in good stride, because about a month ago, I was told that I had “ego issues,” after I told a fuckboy that I wasn’t really into what he was all about.
Nevertheless, my already frail, womanly ego, was about to suffer another devastating blow.
I had dressed up to meet up with this guy who had worked all day and passed out before I even got into town. There weren’t concrete plans, but I was kind of bummed when he hit snooze on me. My friend was also planning to meet up with her boo thing from The Bachelorette, but he chickened out, when she told him that she was with two other girls. I wasn’t mad about that, because those guys are seriously bummers and not cool at all. All the old contestants live together in this weird bro-like, furniture-less commune.
I guess some bonds are unbreakable, when you’re all trying to f*ck the same girl. Brotherhood is one weird concept, if you ask me.
So, basically, we had all got stood up, and then I fell into a pothole and we had to go home, because I was bleeding all over the place.
But you know what? It was actually really funny, because the whole pothole incident could actually be turned into a metaphor.
Sometimes, life really does throw you a few potholes. You’re just driving along and all of the sudden you hit a bump in the road. Or if you’re anything like me, it’s a bump in the road, followed by an enormous car accident, casually followed by a train ramming into your car at 150 miles per hour.
Some of my greatest lessons have been enormous potholes in the road. It always feels like when I’m traveling down the wrong path, I seem to blow out a tire and be led in a different direction. When I lived in Nashville, that pothole was called sexual harassment from my boss, which was terrifying, but it definitely led me to the right place and a career that I love.
Although I’m a huge believer in things happening for a reason, I think I probably just fell into a literal pothole because I’m clumsy, but it did make me think about the concept of picking yourself up and dusting off when life throws shade at you. While, I was on the ground for a few moments, I was able to recover pretty quickly.
Sometimes laughing at yourself is necessary. Learn your lessons, take them in stride, and when you fall into a pothole, pick yourself up and keep moving on. Laying there in agony and acting dramatic only adds insult to injury, which is something that I’ve also learned from.
Instead of planking on the ground, face-side up, yelling at the heavens, “WHYYYY GODDDD?” in front of a police officer, who is assessing some damage that you’ve done to another vehicle (yep, I did this), slap a smile on your face and take some molly or something to get you through this (I didn’t do this).
Sometimes bad things happen to good people for no apparent reason. We’re not meant to understand everything that occurs in our lives, but I like to think that we’re all led on a path. I know I’ve been guilty of thinking that I have it all figured out and then I bust my ass wide-open in the middle of the street. Sometimes it’s meant to work out that way for a reason that we don’t quite understand in the moment.
So basically, what I’m saying is that when you fall on your ass, because you will, stuff your boobs back into your shirt, and keep moving on. Laugh it off, cry it off, bleed it off, whatever you have to do, but don’t take too long getting back up, even if it hurts. You never know what opportunities are waiting for you, even after an epic failure or enormous life change.
Most importantly, be proud of yourself for standing back up. A lot of people don’t have the courage to even try to move forward after they have these experiences. Getting knocked down blows, but it’s really cool to say that you lived and learned from tough times.
^ Okay, I’m officially uncomfortable. This was the worst idea ever.