[ Bastien opens his mouth to say of course, yes, certainly. Habit. But he stops himself, and instead says, ]

I was never eighteen and knobby-kneed,

[ as an airy, braggy, but honest stand-in for a longer and potentially derailing explanation that by then he'd had any genuine clumsiness ironed out. ]

But I think I know what you mean. I do feel awkward sometimes here—it's horrible. It might be a symptom of actually caring what some people think.