Published on 12, July, 2020
I find this so hilariously annoying and wonder if anyone else suffers this:
I have trouble putting small food into my mouth with my hands. I've taken up eating dry fruit and nuts lately and I miss my mouth a lot.
Would this be a trait at all? I'm clumsy as hell anyway.
Even though I spend almost every meal time alone, I still resist buying myself a bib, but I really ought to. I can't wear a clean T-shirt for more than five minutes before I've got something all down the front of it. My other favourite is losing control of my spoon/fork hand such that I plop something into a puddle of sauce, so that I get a nice 360 degree splatter. When I was a kid, my Mum once gave me the epithet "Dolphin Lips" because I just can't drink out of a cup properly somehow, and apparently it's something do with how I shape my lips - but I'm nearly 50 now, and I still can't for the life of me work out what it is.
For me, there's definitely a huge component of having bad proprioception (the sense that tells you where your body parts are without looking). I lose track of where bits of me are sometimes when I've not used them for a while, and I can't for the life of me copy another person's motions properly. School gym teachers and my Boys Brigade drill Sergeant didn't know what to do with me - in my head, I felt I was doing exactly what had been demonstrated; but no, I never was, and they could never get through to me what I was doing wrong. I still tie my shoe laces in my own special way; I end up with the same knot in the end, but I had to work it out by trial and error, because I just couldn't be shown how ("but you're showing me with your hands, and I'm going to have to use my hands - how's that ever going to work?")
It's only very recently that I first saw video footage of me in my natural habitat, and it truly shocked me. I can see very clearly that my movements and postures are not at all what I think they are inside my head. I've always had a bit of a problem using mirrors, too; my brain just doesn't quite "get" them. For example, a weird kind of confusion sets in about whether my real hand or the reflection of my hand is the one connected to my body when I try to shave (rather like the rubber hand illusion, but without the fancy setting up). It doesn't scare me, in fact it sometimes makes me giggle out loud; but suffice to say, I'm usually bearded!
Oh, and I'm missing half the skin off the top of one of my toes. About twice a week, when I stub my toe on the leg of the bed that's been in exactly the same place for two years with enough room to drive a bus around it, I promise myself that I'll just put some padding on the damned thing. My executive functioning then files this idea away somewhere for recall the next time I stub my toe.
[Edited in: Thanks Breadpud for inspiring to write this down. Following some rummaging in my bedding drawer, phase one of building my very own padded cell is now complete. A little unexpected success for the day!]
Trogluddite said:About twice a week, when I stub my toe on the leg of the bed that's been in exactly the same place for two years with enough room to drive a bus around it, I promise myself that I'll just put some padding on the damned thing.
Me too, me too (once upon a time)!
My solution was to buy a metal framed bed with a head board and footboard so I can see from great distance and be reminded of exactly where all four feet are at all times. It’s not totally me-proof, but it’s definitely reduced the frequency of collisions from daily down to about monthly or less. Being metal, it’s comprised of smooth, round bars rather than sharp, leg-scraping edges, which helps keep the skin on my thighs instead of shredded onto my carpet:
https://www.ikea.com/gb/en/p/leirvik-bed-frame-white-luroey-s19277296/
What I hate is when family oh-so kindly invite you to stay and their guest room is furnished with sharp corners that leap out and attack you at every turn. I spent a couple of nights at my parents’ over Christmas and I swear the bed corners were forged by Hades himself, and obscured by a big, puffy duvet to entice you into Hell. I left with my legs covered in swollen lumps where I repeatedly walloped myself—too hard and deep for bruising to appear initially; must have been February before they looked vaguely normal again. And don’t even get me started on the razor-edged, solid wooden futon-style bed that my brother offers to guests. I think, secretly, he knows it creates a torture chamber of a guest room and does it to make sure people don’t come back too often.
My sympathies. Fortunately, I’m only 5’8” so I fit quite comfortably into a standard length bed, but my dad is 6’3” and abhors any foot-boards even though his legs are quite well-behaved. I’m sorry you suffer so.
Ooh, that's a bit of a pet hate of mine. I have restless leg syndrome, too, so if there's anything to catch my legs or feet on, I am guaranteed to find it. Raised foot-boards or sides are a complete no-no.