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.


3 responses »

  1. i can attest that the girl who asked when you were due is definitely embarrassed. i’ve done it. to a good friend. i’m still mortified to this day and she’s a great friend of mine and probably doesn’t even remember. in my defense, i had just moved back from STL, where i had lived for a year. she had previously been a marathoner and had apparently stopped running and put on weight. for the first time since i knew her. also? she was wearing an empire top, which gives the illusion of pregnancy to the skinniest of girls. and her boobs were big. which was unusual. so what did i do? i was sitting next to her at a girls dinner and i put my hand on her belly and asked. so horrifying. plus i had lost all kinds of weight while in STL, so her response was, not all of us are super skinny, torrie! worst. moment. ever. as we walked to the car, i mentioned how the top didn’t help, plus her boobs looked really good. she loved that compliment and said that her husband told her, as she walked our the door, that she shouldn’t wear that shirt because it makes her look pregnant. phew. still? i’m totally mortified.

  2. Oh…I think that I would never get over the yellow puddle thing. That’s tough. I’ll always think of Laura French as the girl with the yellow puddle, even though she’s now a 50-year old wife, mother and successful veterinarian. Not that your kindergarten friends would remember you that way. Well…maybe. Sorry.

    You are linked!

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