My Most Embarrassing Moment
After almost 8 years of being married, 11 of being together, Aaron and I finally admitted our true "most embarrassing moment" the other night. I don't know if that means we've made it to the next big step in the relationship or we finally have given up on trying to impress one another, but either way, I think it's probably good. Anyway, now that he knows, I guess I can share with all of you my little story. What I love about embarrassing moments, is that we all have a "dummy story". You know, the cutesy, "oops my skirt fell off!" sort of story that makes you sound sexy and cute at the same time that it is "mortifying". It takes a really long time to come to grips with the devastation the true story caused, which is why I think it has taken me to the age of 29 to admit the true story... So here it goes: My true most embarrassing moment. (oh - and I won't be sharing Aaron's. Something makes me think that might not be a good idea). So I was super tan, and in shape, and my hula skirt fell off. Shoot. Sorry. Even in print/text/whatever this is, it is hard to get past that dummy story. So I'll try again. When I was a Sophomore in high school, my hair finally grew long, my boobs came in (well sort of - more to come on that), I started wearing make-up...and, well, I was starting to feel alright about myself (although, not really - I still tortured myself with insecurity, but you know, it was better than it was before). Anyway, a boy two years older asked me to the prom. He was cute and popular and of course I said yes. I really didn't know him very well, nor did I know his friends who I would be spending the evening and following day at Six Flags Great America with, very well. Needless to say, cute boy, girls I didn't know, big event = one extremely nervous and self conscious girl. My mom helped me find the perfect dress and let me do my own bra shopping with a friend. I don't know if I was trying to show off, but for whatever stupid, ill-witted reason, I bought a size larger than normal. I mean things had been going well for me right?! I was moving up in the world! Why shouldn't my bra size as well? Well, my friends, pride always comes before the fall, and unfortunately, in my case, this was literal. Let's skip ahead to the night of the prom. Things were starting to feel a bit "loose" and uncomfortable as the pictures at an unknown friend of my cute date's house, were being taken, and then panic started to set in when I saw two of the girls pointing at me and laughing (did I mention I was two years younger - encroaching on their boy territory - not a safe place for a young lady, let me tell you). Then my worst fears came to fruition when my mom interrupted the picture session, took me behind a tree and shared that my bra had fallen down to my stomach and I currently looked like I had four boobs. FOUR BOOBS people!! I mean really - can it get any worse?! Well yes! Because they were all watching us and I had to somehow either hike up the bra or take it off. I think I went with tugging, and then took it off at the dance and hid it in a couch in the bathroom. Anyway, I sucked it up and returned for the rest of the pictures. Needless to say, I don't think my date was impressed. He hardly talked to me the next two days. Can't say I can blame him, but man that was the worst! Whew, I feel much better now. The worst part about it is there is physical evidence somewhere of my moment - probably in the scrapbooks of the girls laughing at my demise. But alas, here I am laughing with them, laughing at me...wait no. I am hiding behind a computer screen. But still, I think I'm over it. I am SO over it.
P.S. I apologize for the overabundance of blogs that include stories involving my boobs.
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