Just Call Me Bridget

I swear I think I might be the married version of Bridget Jones. Not only do I write a diary and/or a blog but I also have Bridgets rather curvey (ever so slightly fat) figure and her well-meaning but ultimately clumsy demeanor which results in an endless series of embarrassing moments.

Take this past month for example – I can only compare it to the bloopers from some cheesey sit-com but here it is…

It was sports day, the field was packed with children, parents, and staff. Each race was smooth running, fast-paced and slick. That was until one poor kid found themselves struggling in the sack race. Having stood and watched them wriggle around in their oversized canvas bag as they saw the other kids bouncing over the finish line, I realised that tears threatened. I couldn’t bear it any longer and in a bid to save the day, I threw my jacket to the floor Baywatch style and made my way to their side to assist. My intention was to lift the handles of the sack/bag and to bounce the kid to the end of the race, only I lost grip and somehow the poor kid fell to the floor. They were absolutely fine and far happier for my help. I, however, wished that the ground could have opened up and swallowed me whole.

Then came the fun run – I had agreed to walk around the course. However, seconds before the whistle blew I was asked to run like the wind. Being completely unfit and having dressed in office wear and flip flops I wasn’t entirely prepared nor dressed for the occasion. Two seconds later I was hairing through the sand dunes, sweating like a pig hoping to god that the course was shorter than I remembered.

Just as I’d navigated over rough terrain, there stood the cameraman poised and ready to snap shots of the kids as they made their way to the finish line. Inevitably it was at this point I lost my footing thanks to my footwear and found myself falling face first into the dirt with my daughter and her friends (and probably a fair few parents) watching on. Shamefaced, I picked myself up, left my dignity on the track and forced my sweaty, saggy body to the finish line.

I love my job, I adore my job actually and I was really grateful that not one person mentioned my mistake, they brushed over my blunder and simply asked if I was ok. I was fine, just embarrassed but whats new?

It wasn’t the first time that clothing caused catastrophe this month – Not long before this was the incident of the interview and my broken shoes. I won’t go into that in too much detail but let’s just say if you are wishing to feel professional, if you have an important meeting to attend per se – then be sure that your shoes aren’t going to split in two midway through the event, leaving you hobbling to a handshake. Thankfully nobody other than myself seemed to notice that particular incident, although I felt as if the whole world knew!

Last night though just takes the biscuit, I was midway through running what was to be a relaxing bubble bath, whilst my ten-year-old son was sat playing in our room. Suddenly he called for my attention, he had apparently found a set of dice, no ordinary dice and certainly not Marks and Spencer’s dice if you catch my drift. Let’s just say that these particular dice were a pre-wedding gift which I’d left in the drawer gathering dust never expecting to be discovered, especially not by my son! He promptly asked me questions regarding the instructions written upon the dice and what they might be used for… Needless to say, the dice are now disposed of! My husband was ever so helpful though cackling away, I must remember the support that he offered for the next time that finds himself in hot water!

Why? Why do these things always happen to me?! I have such good intentions, I always try to do my very best yet despite my efforts to be professional and to keep things cool things always seem to go a little off track. I often wonder if much-like the Truman Show, my life is being recorded for comedy value.

Bridget Jones may parachute into a field full of pig muck, she may scooch down a fireman’s pole in a mini skirt exposing her undergarments live on air but Bridget has nothing on me. Let’s hope that like Bridget, despite my continuous cock-ups people will continue to like me just the way I am.