When I was in my teenage years I used to pour over the pages of Seventeen magazine. I'd carefully read each article, trying to master the art of flirting, styling and restyling my uncooperative hair to match the latest trend and taking the quizes to messure my "Girlfriend Potential" (totally cheating to get a better score than was actually true). I also may have secretly cut pictures of the "cutest" celebs and pasted them into a book that I recently found and had a good giggle over - I mean who didn't have a crush on Jonathan Taylor Thomas?
But my favorite part? The article I read with enthusiasm and delight? Was the "Most Embarassing Moments" section. I took great pleasure in reading the plights and plunders of others. Mostly because I aptly earned the name Magoo as a small child and clumsiness was second nature to me. So for a few moment I was able to feel "normal". Sad? Probably. True? Absolutely. I would share those pages with my friends but other than the appropriate laugh I said nothing about my need to "relate" to the teens in that magazine.
What's funny now, is I can look back and see that everyone has embarassing moments. While not everyone fell down the stairs of the cruiseship, breaking their shoe and landing on the back of the most popular guy in school - on prom night, we've all had our blunders. And we all have our "most embarassing moment":
It was the summer of '97 and I was 13 going on 25. We were at the Trans Canada Waterslides, my three "best" friends (or so you call them in high school) and I. And though I was a pudgy, small breasted teen I had donned a bathing suit and 6 bottles of sunscreen ready to enjoy the day. (By the way that's almost not an exaggeration such is my fear of lobster skin) Not only a bathing suit, a two piece, a bikini, something that left parts of my body other than my feet, hands and face bare. This was not only a rare occasion, at that point I believe it was a first. It was also, a last.
The day was going great, we were getting in copious amounts off exercise hoffing it up the hill to the slides. We had about 3 runs left before it was time to go and one of my friends and I decided it was time to try the blackhole. You know the totally encase slide that's pitch black until you emerge at the end with a thunderous splash! Did I mention 2 out of the 4 of us were males? No? Well, that's important. For everyone's sake, and to prevent the result of a Google Search being this blog and this post lets call them Jonah, Peter and Faith. (Those are so not their names but whatever.)
Anyways, Jonah and I headed for the blackhole, being that the day had gone so well and I was having so much fun I chose to go first. Down I went, loving every second of the 15 second ride. I hit the water with the afore mentioned splash and stood up with triumph. This is where things went horribly wrong.
Across the pool deck I saw the faces of both Faith and Peter. Horror doesn't even quite begin to describe it. Peter takes off and mach speed and envelopes me in a huge bear hug, all the while mumbling something about my top.
After figuring out that he hadn't quite lost his mind I put together what he was saying and looked down. Apparently during my 15 second ride my top had come undone and was now wound around my neck. That's right folks my itty bitties were on display and what did I do? I stood their like a moron, a huge grin on my face, completly oblivious to the fact that I now had less of a swimsuit on than I had started the ride with.
My day was ruined (it was also the last time I was on a waterslide). I made a beeline for the blanket, where Jonah's Mom sat waiting, brushing tears from my face, refusing to even acknowledge the friends who'd rescued me. Or should I said friend who rescued me. See while Peter hopped on the chance to cover me and save me the tiniest bit of dignity (well, not really. There wasn't much left in the way of dignity. How could there be? The whole water park had just seen me practically naked), the other 2 of my friends just stood there. Either dumbstruck or mean. Looking back I think one was mean and the other was a little bit of a dipstick, but oh well.
We went home, I cried to my Mother who's body shook with laughter (I'm so not kidding, and no Mom I haven't let that go) and carried on.
The moral of the story, I survived. And, like everyone said I would, I look back now and laugh. No it's not funny to be that girl, if it happened to one of my girls I probably would cry too not laugh but as time has worn on I can see the humour in the moment. Can you imagine the look on my face? Or the faces of the people around me?
The point? I dunno, thought you could use a laugh, this blog has been way to serious lately and we needed some lightening up. Even if it meant I had to take my top off to do it!