Do you remember your most embarrassing moment of all time?
I am sure I have had about a million of them, but one continually sticks out in my mind.
And since I was more than willing to throw Techy under the bus earlier this week with my posting about his artistic abilities, I figure it’s time to suffer some of my own humiliation. Or rather, relive it.
For the record, if bodily functions freak you out, you should stop reading now and move on to another of my posts. Or even better, move on to your own post and let me read about your most embarrassing moment.
Believe me when I say that embarrassment is something that I should be a pro at by now.
But I am not. After all these years, I have still not learned how to handle embarrassment with grace. But that’s just me.
It happened when I was 12, maybe 13. Absolutely the most painful age for embarrassing moments. At the time, I was chubby, had the largest blue rimmed glasses you could find and extremely awkward. The ugly duckling stage was full swing for me.
An aside: why do teenagers these days not experience the ugly duckling stage that plagued me and my friends? It’s so unfair! They are all adorable and pretty and totally miss a pivotal character building phase…. Sorry, that’s the bitterness talking.
Back to the saga.
Ok, so I was approximately 13, chubby, dorky, and extremely awkward. Oh and boy crazy. To top it off, my family were reenactors. We used to do Civil War Reenacting. I know, right? My childhood was like “Sweet Home Alabama”. I spent a good portion of my childhood dressed in petticoats, sitting next to a camp fire, reliving drama of the 1860’s and telling everyone I knew that “the South WILL rise again”.
At this particular reenactment, there happened to be a boy that I very much had a crush on. He and his brother were new recruits and I thought he was absolutely adorable. Chances are he DID NOT think the same thing of me.
Reenactments were always blisteringly hot and this particular event happened to be held at a resort (only in the south would a resort host a Civil War Reenactment) which also boasted of a large public pool. All participants were welcomed to relax in the pool during their stay. So we did.
As luck would have it, the object of my affections joined us. I was elated. Cloud 9 does not even come close. I donned my cutest swimsuit and bounded into the pool as fast I as could.
I was thrilled to be in a pool. My sister and I had perfected our water skills, including but not limited to diving, flipping underwater, handstands, swimming like a mermaid, etc. And everyone knows that when you are 12 years old, the one way to capture a boy’s attention is to show off in the pool by doing 12 underwater flips without coming up for air or having the straightest underwater handstand.
After contemplating my skills and which would be best suited to impress the dude, I opted for a handstand. Clearly he would be impressed with my pointy toes and my straight, if short and stubby, legs.
Before I could change my mind, I called to my sister to “Watch this!”, of course trying to get his attention. As soon as I was sure I had commanded the attention of all around me, I dove in and flipped my legs into the air. No sooner had my legs cleared the water than I felt a strange sensation. A horrifying sensation.
The moment my rear end hit the air, my rear cleared some air.
I was horrified. I was mortified. I almost cried.
I recovered as gracefully as possible. I swam away and splashed a lot and made a lot of “pfffffft” noises with my mouth to try to act like I had made the noise with my mouth.
Oh my gosh…. Embarrassing moments crack me up. The saddest part, I never saw that boy after that weekend. But it’s probably for the best. You can’t recover from that kind of first impression.