While I'm sure everyone's experience is a bit different, the first sign of trouble began with random falls at Target. My husband and I loved to take a trip to Target on Sunday afternoons to pick up groceries and odds and ends; we called it Target Sunday. Yes, I know, life in the suburbs is so exciting, but we loved to spend the time alone together even if it was just at Target.
Back to the falling...It's not as if I was wearing heels and tripped over my clumsy feet; I'd come to describe it as: the upper half of my body was headed down the frozen foods aisle ready to select my favorite ice cream and someone forgot to tell my legs to join us. Down I'd go, slam! Mostly my hips would take the hit as I fell to one side or the other; the bruises were rather attractive.
Often times I would have a Starbucks' Venti black coffee in hand for the event as was part of the Target Sunday ritual. It still perplexes the mind when I remember how often I fell without spilling a single drop. I'd land, coffee elevated high above my body like the Statue of Liberty holding her torch. This stunt played several times at the local Target but still I dismissed it as nothing more than my habit of moving faster than necessary for any given task. Let's just say I had an East Coast pace in a Midwestern environment.
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