It was a gloomy, rainy Friday, and while trudging up the treacherously slippery steps from Sanford Mall, I was distracted by an actual blonde adonis walking towards me. To this day I will argue that I was blinded by his beauty and in my weakness, I fell and busted my ass in front of literally everyone. Like, I'm talking full out, face first, onto my knees like I'm praising the Lord, fall. And as I lay there as what quite possibly could have been one of the most attractive male students on campus leaning over me and asking if I was okay, I just burst out laughing. It was a terrifying laugh, the lovechild between a pig snort and The Lion King hyenas, but I just couldn't stop myself. Honestly, I must have made a pretty picture laying across the steps like some broken Madonna, snorting to myself and eventually hiccuping from the hysteria. By the time I was done I was soaked through, the guy was half terrified half amused (So, I'll count that as a win,) and my "abs" genuinely ached from laughing so hard. Eventually, I stood up with a smile on my face, blood on my knees and I limped away to bury what was left of my embarrassment in a bread bowl from McCallister's.

This isn't really new to me, though. I'm the least coordinated person I know. Anytime I walk anywhere, ever, I fall. So attending a school in Boone, that is ice 99.9% of the year, was maybe not the best decision I ever made. No, my best decision came when I realized how hilarious I am. Like seriously, I'm the funniest person I know. My puns are fantastic, my wit is sharp and my body moves as gracefully as a newborn caribou's so normally there's some physical humor there too. I'm a pretty funny gal, and I used to be ashamed of that. I used to run away from situations for fear of being mocked, but that all changed when I realized how much more that hurt me more than anyone's laughter ever did. I realized that being ashamed of myself for being a klutzy and punny dork was far more painful than any shame from any fall I could ever take.

Once I started laughing with everyone else, and realized the humor in the situations that I somehow found myself in, I became a happier person.

Now this change isn't something that happened over night. I didn't wake up and suddenly I was happy. No, it took some time, patience and a lot of self-love and encouragement. I know how easy it is to slip into a sea of shame when you mess up in front of a crowd. To abruptly have everyone's attention on you is enough to get your pulse rising and that pit in your stomach get heavier. I used to hate myself for how awkward and clumsy I am. I did everything in my power to avoid drawing attention to myself because I was ashamed of who I was, but slowly but surely I am learning to love the parts of myself that I used to hide.

I embraced the fact that I'm world's worst dancer, that I sound slightly like a dying caribou when I sing. (Are you sensing a theme here, because I am), and quite honestly, the fact that I say some really dumb stuff. The root of this change happened when, I, a strong, proud and independent twenty-year-old woman, scolded a drunk man by stating:

"Woah there, buckaroo. You best biggity back-the heck-up."

The cocky look on this poor guy's face twisted into something resembling Munch's "The Scream", and as we both realized what I said, it was like a whole new world. I exploded into laughter as this guy sprinted away, and every time I tell this story, it gets a little funnier, people laugh a little harder and I get to make someone's day a little better.

If you don't remember anything from this article, other than the buckaroo story, please remember this: Learning to laugh at yourself takes away the embarrassment of existing. Embrace those moments of "OMG, I can't believe I said that", or laying sprawled on the unforgiving ground after a fall, because those moments make you, you. It's easy to hate yourself for what you've done, but learning to laugh about it, to find that humor, that's when the love starts.

That buckaroo line has defined my last two years here at App and has become somewhat of a legacy, more than my GPA or Resume ever have. People know me as "buckaroo". Which to anyone else might be actually one of the worst things that could possibly happen to a person, but to me it was the best. That moment right there, when that horrible catchphrase was uttered for the first time, my life became exponentially better. Fast forward a year now, and I'm still going strong. I still slip and fall on my face, I still say embarrassing things because of my lack of filter and I still love every single moment of it.

I learned to laugh at myself yes, but more importantly I learned to love myself, and in my mind, those are pretty much the same thing.