I could tell about the time I put my shirt on inside out and wore it that way for two classes till someone told me. I tried to bluff my way out of it, “Oh, it’s supposed to be like that.” Until the person pointed out the tag.
Or I could regale you with the tale of trying to bluff my way through a book I hadn’t read and had no desire to read, until it became apparent (by the teacher’s incessant questions) that I hadn’t read paragraph one.
But I think I’ll tell story of: Teri and the Bra.
This took place in early adolescence and I had just recently begun wearing bras. I hated them with a passion. It was a weird day because our middle school canceled a class so the Phys Ed people could check us all for scoliosis. I was in the locker room, talking and joking with my friends while we changed out of our regular shirts and into our PE shirts. We had to forgo bras so they could check the curvature of our spines and I was happy to ditch mine. We finished changing and walked out to get into line. The boy’s line was on one side of the gym and the girl’s line was on the other. We were almost to the front of the line when one of my friends, (not so much, eh?) lifted my shirt and grabbed the strap of the bra which I had mistakenly left dangling around my waist. “AHHH! WHAT”S THIS?” she screamed, snapping the bra strap. Of course, everyone turned to look and I rushed out of the gym amidst humiliated anguish. The worst part? The gym teacher came in and made me go back out there to have my stupid spine checked.
Now that, my friends is killing mortification. Only not so much, because a few days went by and everyone forgot about it. I survived. There are parts of growing up that are fantastic. Other parts not so much. What is your most humiliating teen moment? I shared mine. It’s only fair that you share one too!
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Undergarment peek-shows are always face-reddeners. I think one of my most embarrassing moments came when I was running past my crush on the school yard and slipped on some black ice. It hurt so much but I was too mortified to let him help me.
This isn't that bad, but it my theatre class we were playing a name game called two truths and a lie. People are supposed to guess the lie, mine was pretty lame so I couldn't call on any of my friends and instead called on someone whose name I thought I knew. I'm terrible with names. "Clay," I pointed and was met with dead silence. "Oh! Clint!" everyone laughed and I covered my face in shame, apologizing and saying that, "At least I got the first two letters!"
It wouldn't have been that bad but my friends teased me about it for the rest of the week.
The scene: Freshman year tennis tryouts.
The action: We have to run 10 suicides (don't ask, just know they are BRUTAL) across the courts.
The crowd: Football tryouts are also going on, just next to the courts.
The pivotal moment: When I have to stop running and start barfing up my lunch--Ravioli!
The aftermath: Walking into the building with ravioli puke on my shirt, right by my biggest crush, Jeff Greenberg, who was nice enough to say, "Hang in there, Melissa!"
That's some sad stuff. But Jeff's so nice that we're still friends, even after he married my friend Katie.
Looks like puking stories are the order of the day. I went to the fun fair with some friends. And we decided to go on this ride - individual chairs which spin round and out (the name of the ride espcapes me).
Before we went on we all had some candy floss (green candy floss!!). Guess who puked all over the person in the chair in front while the ride was going. O.M.G. And it was green.
No puking stories here, just an undone fly story. Of course, I was told by the guy I had a huge crush on. Sigh...
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