I am very bad at roller skating. I am, quite possibly, the worst roller skater in the entire world. In my fourth grade roller skating unit, my class was promised a pizza party if we could all skate for 10 minutes without falling down. (Ironic that only the promise of fattening food was enough to convince us to exercise for 10 minutes, but that’s another story). Every single kid in my class came up to me to ask me if I could “really try to not fall this time” because they knew I was the only thing that stood between their grubby little hands and a slice of cheesy heaven. I fell, as I had every day since the unit had begun, and saw my teacher roll his eyes as he ignored it one last time.

The end of that horrifying gym unit marked the end of my roller skating career. I had accepted my place at the bottom and come to terms with the fact that I was simply not graceful enough to do this thing that so many others could do without thinking. I was retired, and people always believed me when I told them how bad I was, UNTIL RECENTLY.

Last Friday, my friend Emily decided that she wanted a group of our friends to go to a roller rink as a last night of fun together before she went back to school. I immediately began dreading the thought of strapping on those four-wheeled death traps again, but not wanting to ruin everyone’s fun, I went along with the plan. Needless to say, I ruined everyone’s fun.

After about a half hour of dragging myself along the wall of the rink, being laughed at by tweens who seemed to be training for some sort of roller derby Olympics, and of course falling a few times, I decided it was time to be brave. I let go of the wall and moved about a foot before falling over backward. I have no video coverage of this fall (unfortunate, because I FOR SURE could have made it big on "America’s Funniest Home Videos"), but it felt like my knee and foot bent in opposite directions. My best friend, who I have discovered is amazing at roller skating (that lucky bitch), was next to me almost instantly, fighting back laughter and asking if I was okay. I tried to hold in the pain, which, for me, meant beginning to cry and scream profanities on the floor of the rink (this crying would turn to full on, hideous sobbing once the two of us were alone in her car). The only roller rink employee to be found, who I believe to be 12 years old, rolled up and halfheartedly asked if I wanted ice or the manager. My angry, tearful response was enough to make him snap into action. He brought me one bag of ice and a paper towel and then slowly backed away from the scene of my worst-case scenario turned reality. The beautiful angels that are my friends helped me ice my foot, made jokes with me, and wound up sitting in urgent care with me for two hours later that night while I got an X-Ray. It was a ligament sprain in my right ankle, if you’re curious. It hurt like hell and made me understand what it’s like to move at the pace of a handicapped snail everywhere you go, all the time. Grandmas everywhere, I salute you.

I share this story with you not only so you can get to know me better (although, you’re welcome) but also to teach you an important lesson – that sometimes people really do suck at things. When a friend tells you they’re bad at something, they might not be exaggerating. (If your friend is a teen girl, she might just be annoying and thirsty for your praise, but maybe not.) Encouragement is nice, but not always necessary. Next time someone you care about says they probably shouldn’t do something because they’re the worst ever at it, please believe them. Find something else to do, especially if you were planning on roller skating. (If someone you hate says the same thing, maybe stick to the original plan. It’ll be hilarious.) This glorious idea works both ways. Realize that you’re terrible at some things, and don’t be afraid to share that. The people who really love you will still love you, and you could save yourself from a very itchy cast.