They no longer call me graceful. Wait, they never did.

Last night, I went to a retirement party for a couple of my co-workers. One retired to spend more time with her family -- despite her being too young to retire -- and the other moved on to another challenge. We're a big family, so we couldn't just have cake in the office. It wouldn't be right. We needed a send off.

The party was held at a swanky restaurant downtown. Since we never get a chance to dress up -- with our job there is no point, you'll likely just end up covered in something gross -- we all decided to go all out. I picked my favourite LBD, my 4 inch black an white polka dotted heels with red soles and even did my hair. It was a red letter day.

The party was awesome. Two other co-workers planned everything to a tee and our once boss now co-worker wrote one of the funniest speeches ever. Everyone talked and laughed and there was only a little work talk -- I didn't mean to bring it up, but seriously, some people.

I felt great. Everyone greatly admired my shoes and -- with two short breaks -- my feet didn't even hurt too much. Finally, the night was winding down -- my co-workers can't party like they did in the 80s -- and I decided to go home.

As I was leaving, one of the women whose party it was, came and gave me a huge hug. She told me she was going to miss me and then said the nicest thing anyone ever has, "You're the kind of woman I always wanted to be." Now, she was a little tipsy, but a drunk compliment is as good as any other. I left the party feeling like a million bucks.

Entering the foyer of the club to go outside, I felt a little bit like one of the Sex and the City girls -- very sophisticated and beautiful. I did my best 5th Avenue walk to the big wooden doors leading outside. Outside, the street lights twinkled, the air was crisp and fresh, and I noticed the people on the patio had looked up at me. I strutted like a peacock to the steps.

My heel -- which I'd conquered all evening -- caught on a slight roll in the carpet of the stairs. I catapulted from that spot and went down hard on my knees -- half on the step, half on the cement. My ankle twisted at a weird angle and my arms flailed wildly looking for something to hold on to.

Somehow, I recovered. I stood up quickly and strutted away from the building like nothing had happened.

I may never go to that club again.