Things I’m S**t at and Other Lessons in Self-Promotion – By @ThatPinkSuit
By Rhiannon Butlin
Things I’m S**t at and Other Lessons in Self-Promotion
Last week, I had yet another moment of realisation (I have these at least once a week and would highly recommend them). I, like a lot of other people I imagine, fear failure. I mean, why wouldn’t you? Falling flat on your face is hardly a pleasant experience. But all this reminds me of something my grandfather told me before he passed away. If a little stumble is the only thing stopping you from wearing your most fabu* heals, well girl, you better grow a vagina and squeeze those f***ing heels on. Just joking, my grandfather was a tee-total methodist from South Glamorgan. But it really is a great way of looking at things. In short, I’ve become too afraid to take risks. The solution: to document every single time I’ve completely embarrassed myself until there’s absolutely no face left to loose. Enjoy:
Yr 7: I constructed a castle entirely from sugar cubes over the space of a few weeks for a history project. On the morning my assignment was due I managed to navigate London’s public transport system with my still-wet creation and make it into school with the castle unscathed. I dropped it off in my history teachers classroom before lessons, ready for history at fourth period. A naive yr 7, I had underestimated the cruelty of my peers, safe to say, by 4th period it was nothing more than a pile of rubble and some other b**** won first place for best castle.
Yr 9: I begrudgingly agreed to participate in a long distance for sports day on the basis that my ‘friend’ would also participate, we agreed we would run it together. It’s important at this point to make clear that sport is my kryptonite (additional notes: I optimistically joined rounders in Yr 8 and was consigned to fourth team, yes, fourth team, in something which is closer to a party game than a genuine sport). My ‘friend’ waited till the final lap, at which point I was barely even conscious, to strike, she sprinted ahead, leaving me firmly in last place.
Yr 12: A classmate, let’s call her Jenny, decided to rent out one side of a bar for her birthday party. My best friend casually brought this oncoming social event up one day only to realise I had not received an invitation, don’t worry, I received mine the following day, clearly just an admin error on Jenny’s part. It later emerged that too many people had declined the invitation and I was invited during a second sweep to make up numbers. The party was crap but I made sure to take full advantage of the free drinks, take that Jenny!
3rd Year of University: I had yet to join one society or team, apart from a brief fling with lacrosse in which I was smacked in the head with a lacrosse ball. It was now or never. I rationalised that I could bob from side to side in a club, therefore a dance team was the obvious choice. Cheerleading looked pretty simple, I mean it was just a series of robotic arm movements? Wasn’t it? I spent an entire term trying to learn a six minute routine under the disapproving gaze of some very inhospitable semi-professional dancers, (yeh turns out everyone else there had done dance at some point). On the day I am not being modest when I say I ruined the entire routine for the team, about half way through I came to the realisation that I was chronically uncoordinated and had absolutely no idea what was going on or even where I was. I politely declined the invitation to team-pre’s that evening and got p***** with my friends instead.
So what have we learnt, well I really have to stop attempting sport, like, just, STOP RHIANNON. But also that in hindsight, even my most catastrophic fails are, in hindsight, pretty hilarious. That is, the ones I can remember, I’m pretty sure I’ve successfully repressed quite a few more. If I hadn’t failed quite so spectacularly, I would never have known the deep satisfaction of constructing a teeny-tiny sugar wall; got f***** on free white wine with my best friend or acquired a pretty fabulous cheer costume. So prepare yourself COUP, this is only the beginning, this term I am embracing the fail. But I promise, absolutely no sport this time.