This week’s spin cycle is about embarrassing moments. I don’t really have one. Sorry.
I don’t mean to say nothing embarrassing has ever happened to me. I just mean to say I don’t have one with a really good story. Perhaps what I lack in quality, I have made up for in quantity? I’ll give you what I’ve got, though.
- Kindergarten. I think I was a lot like Ella. Loud at home, quiet in the classroom. I knew I had to go to the bathroom when we headed to music. But I was kind of afraid of the very stern music teacher, and thought I could wait til I got back to the loving arms of Miss Jenney before my bladder exploded. And then we found out we were playing guitars. And apparently, the proper posture for that with 5 year olds is to have them stand at the desk, with one foot on the seat. It was more than my little bladder could take. There was soon a yellow puddle under the chair.
- Also when I was of that age, I had a boy haircut. I’m sure we talked about this ad nauseum on the Old Blog. I was constantly mistaken for a boy, which I thought was MORTIFYING. Just a few months ago my mother admitted that the boy haircut was just because she didn’t want to take me for haircuts so she did them herself. MOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!
- French Camp. Yes. I am *that* kind of geek. I didn’t speak French and it wasn’t offered at my school. But I so desperately wanted to. So I went to French camp. After the two weeks, we put on a program for our parents when they came to get us. I still barely spoke French. So I said the line was supposed to say. But one of the counselors whispered to me, “Plus fort!” So I said, “Plufor!” which was met with much giggling. “Plus fort” apparently means “louder.” Whoops.
- After getting married and moving back to my home town, I went out to my old high school for something. I don’t even remember what it was now. But I remember running into somebody who had been a class or two ahead of me. “When are you due?” she asked. “I’m not,” I said. I recognize this shouldn’t really be embarrassing to me, it should be to her. But it still was. And I still wanted to die a thousand deaths.
- Birth! Labor and delivery is a great place for embarrassing stories! I am petrified of having a needle in my back (no, I can’t explain why I have a back tattoo, in that case), so I didn’t have an epidural for any of my labors. Which meant I felt every. Little. Thing. During Birth #2, I was as far as some pushing when the doctor decided to just handle some things for himself. I had a literal knee jerk reaction, and I nearly kicked him in the face. “I’m just trying to help!” he said. I think Captain America probably remembers more embarrassing things that I yelled while giving birth, but I seem to be blocking them now.
I guess that’s all I’ve got. I’m ok with not having a great story. I mean, is anyone really aiming to get better embarrassing stories? I probably have one but am blocking it out. I do my best to either avoid the embarrassment altogether, or brush it off when it happens. If this wasn’t embarrassing enough for you, there’s plenty more at Gretchen’s place.