Part 1 of 2
Me after watching Olympic women’s gymnastics:
I’m sitting on the floor in my bedroom with my back against the long side of my bed. The head of the bed is to me right, the foot of the bed to my left. Also to my left there is a rocker chair (left over from rockin’ and nursin’ my babies at night) set in stationary mode, pushed up next to the bed, the opening to sit on it facing me.
… in my head:
I get up on my left knee, my back still to my bed, extend my right leg out sideways with perfectly pointed toes, and plant my right hand on the floor directly in front of me. I gracefully place my left hand on the seat of the chair, lift with both my left leg and right arm, bring my right foot over my head, keeping my right leg extended, land my chest on my bed with my face scarcely touching the mattress. I seamlessly continue into rolling 90 degrees to my right while pushing off with my left leg so as to turn 90 degrees to the left in the plane of the bed. I reach laying-in-bed-facing-the-TV triumphantly and finish by raising my left arm and flourishing my hand like all the gymnasts do to signify the start and end of their routine.
… in reality:
I get up on my left knee, my back still to my bed, extend my right leg out sideways as far as it’ll go. No clue where my right arm or hand is. I put my left hand on the seat of the chair, and grunt as I force my body off the floor. My right foot barely misses kicking the chair arm as it swings over to my right towards the bed. I flop on to the mattress like dead weight, my face just missing my pillow. I reverse direction to roll 180 degrees to my right so I’m facing the way I meant to be (note: this is the complete opposite of how I move in my head). I reach laying-in-bed-facing-the-TV triumphantly and finish by raising my left arm and flourishing my hand like all the gymnasts do to signify the start and end of their routine.
Part 2 of 2
Me after watching Olympic women’s diving:
I can’t do any of that.