Superheroes need dance lessons

February 22, 2017


Here’s my column for this week. I hinted earlier at an incident where I almost wiped out in front of a crowd a few weeks ago, and here’s more on the topic. Perhaps you know someone who shares my affliction. Bless her heart. (And I can’t believe I didn’t remember to add this to the story . . . but I also fell down a short flight of stairs just after my wedding ceremony on the way to the reception!


My superhero power is the ability to appear graceful and elegant, while secretly being a total klutz. Sitting around a table or standing in line, you’d think I was the embodiment of Grace Kelly. But when I try to move from point A to point B, my true identity is revealed. Walking is my kryptonite.

Mama wanted to sign me up for dance lessons after I’d had four trips to the hospital for stitches before I was 6 years old. Once on my eyelid (fell against the coffee table), twice on my forehead (front porch . . . both times) and a nasty bicycle accident (didn’t need to use those fingers anyway).  “Dance is for sissies!” I told her. Looking back, I have no idea why I said that, because I was just about the biggest sissy around, and thought the tutus worn by the ballerinas on Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood were the prettiest things I’d ever seen.


As I grew older, lankier and received two concussions, one from smacking into the flagpole (looking at a boy) and the other from a metal box of feminine products in the locker room (when did they put that there?”), my parents panicked and signed me up for Mary Lou’s Models where I . . . click HERE to finish reading the story at and click “share” to send to your favorite accident-prone lady! (Misery loves company).



  • I guess gracefulness is a gift that I was absent during when given out–even that sentence sounds awkward, doesn’t it? Hmm. You know what I mean. I am mesmerized by graceful women. When I watch DWTS, it is the graceful extension of an arm that fascinates me. I used to have an old “exercise” tape of Angela Lansbury that I watched over and over just watching the way she held her head while walking into the room.

    I hope no one laughed when you almost went down at the stage. I don’t think true Southern Ladies laugh when they see that happen!

    • It happened so fast, but I did hear a few soft gasps, but definitely no laughs. These were first class ladies (who held their eye rolls and giggles till they were home!).

  • Lee Ann Smith says:

    I feel your pain…literally. My husband and I had gone to dinner and were walking through the parking lot afterwards when I walked into a metal sign. My head hitting that metal actually made that cartoon boi-i-i-ng sound, like when Wiley Coyote gets it with the anvil. He held me up walking the rest of the way, all the while stifling a laugh. Thirty years later, we still get the giggles over this incident.

    • Okay . . . even though I can totally sympathize, even I laughed out loud at the cartoon reference! Good one!

  • Oh nothing like having a fall to leave us feeling embarrassed. Not a thing funny about your fall except the way you write about it. Funny story Leslie Anne. Glad the only thing hurt was your pride and I’m sure everyone there felt awful for you. Good to see you:)

    • This was a tiny blip compared to all the other times! Thank the goodness above!

  • Gretta grace in the green dress has some great pearls bouncing around her neck! I realize that our “fall factor” increases with age, for sure. I was out walking this week, pre dawn, and the sidewalk reached up and tripped me. Pitch black, I still hurried to stand up and quickly looked around to see if anyone saw me. Luckily the neighborhood still was asleep.

    • Poor thing! Isn’t it funny how we (usually) ignore the pain to appear as elegant as possible? Even in the dark of early morning! Hope you are okay!

  • When I started my teaching, I stopped wearing heels to school, thus without the daily practice whenever I do wear heels I look like Jack Lemmon in Some like it Hot. The latter is not a pretty or graceful site. I am proud that you made it up and back once, who needs perfection when a fall from grace leads to a really good story.

    • Jack Lemmon — now that’s a hoot! And yes, these days, I’ve turned into a real writer. It’s all about the story! Ha!

  • Leslie Anne, bless the lady’s heart that kept you from totally wiping out. I have always had a fear of falling in front of a large crowd of people. But, I do have a horrific story on a ski lift in Colorado. Maybe I need to share it one day!

  • Haha, well that wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be! I can so relate, I am a total klutz and my poor daughter inherited it from me. When we go shopping we’ve been known to take out a whole rack of clothes just by walking by, leaving chaos in our wake…she was quite the ballerina though, but it didn’t seem to matter 🙂 Your husband sounds like such a sweetie!

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