My favorite embarrassing moments

I’ve embarrassed myself countless times over the years. Too many to count really, but there are a few that give me a good laugh when I think about them.  They’re too good to not share. Honestly, I don’t think embarrassing things should be hidden, but shared, so everyone can laugh. Like, awful photos where you’re sporting all the double chins or making the ugliest face possible. They make everything better when you’re having a horrible day. Oh, and there are some of those too.

 

My most recent ugly picture. I treasure it. I have never laughed so much in my life. I forced my husband to take my picture with this turtle I found by our pond.

turtlewendy
If I licks it. It’s mine.

But then, since I’m a photo editing genius I made it better.

turtle twins
So party, brah.

 

My first embarrassing moment on the list:

As my class lined up on picture day in the second grade, I was super proud of my outfit. It was a  black velvet sweater dress with a red plaid teddy bear. The Mary Janes and frilly socks were the matches that set the bonfire that was my outfit ablaze. I was over confident since I was wearing the black velvet teddy bear sweater dress, and I started cracking jokes. I was making people laugh, but I was making myself laugh harder. I laughed so hard in fact that I peed. Just peed right there in the sand. I stood there for a second trying to figure out what I was going to do and if anyone noticed, but no one did. As ridiculous as I am, I laughed even harder at how absurd my situation was. I just peed and no one noticed. I just stepped over it and walked to go take pictures. I’m sorry to the kid who sat in my wet spot after me.

 

horrible bangs
Someone pray for this child’s head.

This photograph^^^ is from kindergarten. Behold my shitty bangs! I’m not sure why they are like this, but I could have used an emergency set of clip-in bangs. Also, the way my hair is brushed makes it look like I’ve got a very majestic mullet. It’s a mullet steeped in freedom and all that the constitution stands for. If you get really quiet, you can hear our national anthem gently serenading you from the party section of my mullet.

I could fill this post with pictures of nothing but school pictures. I won’t, but I could. My mother needs to give me the photo albums of all my school photos. They are truly a horror. I love them. As a child it used to bum me out how I looked like a tiny goblin, but once I hit jr. high I started seeing how unbelievably funny they were, and began to look forward to the train wreck of getting those picture packets. I can’t say the same for my parents, but they are required to love me, so I don’t care.

wendymullet
I would use this picture for everything if I could.

My next embarrassing story involves this ^^^ picture. I’m not just using it because I love it. I do, but it is an integral part of this story. When I was in the sixth grade I was self conscious about my eyebrows. I have rectangular eyebrows, and picture day was coming soon. I couldn’t do anything about the Reba McIntyre (I saw it as a Prince mullet but whatever) mullet, but I could do something about the eyebrows. A smart girl would have asked her mother. I wasn’t a smart girl. My mother’s eyebrows were on a such an expert level that she had trained the hairs to grow perfectly in line, and figured she would try to take my thick rectangles in the same direction. What did I do? Since I was too lazy to use tweezers and figured it would be the same thing only quicker I grabbed a razor and started shaving.

For all those that haven’t made this mistake, let me just say that it isn’t the same. At all. I also shaved one side at a time and managed to shave waaay too much eyebrow off. I panicked and put the razor down before I shaved them all the way off. I knew there was no way I was going to be able to draw them back on. I had no idea how make up worked. I was in art class, but I was pretty sure it was going to be different on my face. I quickly went to bed and hoped my eyebrows would spontaneously grow back overnight. I didn’t know anything about hair growth since I had no leg hair to shave, so as far as I knew, my eyebrows might have been like wolf man eyebrows once poked.

They weren’t. My brow was still just as bald when I woke up as when I went to bed. I came up with the clever idea to wear sunglasses that hid my eyebrows. I was a genius. I could change my persona at school. I could be that cool girl that always wears sunglasses. I would wear them during my school picture and that would make me stand out as a bad ass girl that didn’t follow the rules with a devil may care attitude. IT WOULD WORK!!

Except, it didn’t work. My mom asked me why I was wearing the sunglasses the second I got in the car. I said it was to mix up my persona at school, and she told me to take them off. My cool girl persona was short lived. RIP cool girl Wendy persona, you might have worked. Probably. Once the sunglasses were off, my mom took one look at me and other than her eyes widening considerably she did not let on that she noticed what I had done. She trained her eyes forward for the rest of the car ride. Every once in a while she would break out in a crazy, strained grin that I realize now was her way of trying not to laugh until she peed her pants.

I’ve always thanked her for that small favor. The illusion that it wasn’t noticeable that she kept up helped me get out of the car with far more confidence than I had any right to, and walk into school.

 

I only did a few embarrassing moments and pictures, but I honestly could have kept going forever. Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll continue this on Thursday. Who knows.

 

A very, very short story that sums up my mother perfectly.

us
Me, in college with three of my sister’s children. The oldest is twelve, I’m eighteen in this picture after I reached my full height. I’m so friggin’ tall.

I’m a short lady. Like, an excessively short lady. I didn’t skim past 5′ and 1/2 inches until after my first semester in college. I cried tears of relief. Finally, I was super model tall. Everyone could eat it. I was a late bloomer too, and unlike most children, I never outgrew clothes. They just turned to dust on my body and blew away. My mother just had to give the stuff away.

I wore the same red puffy coat for four years because it fit in elementary school. When the other kids started calling me little red riding hood I drew the line.  I refused to wear the coat, and mother finally bought me a different one.

My mother is a giant. A giant with a tiny daughter. When we stand side by side it makes me look smaller and makes her look taller.

When we would go out to eat at buffet restaurants and the waiter would point to me and ask  her,

“Is she she under 12?”

My mom, without blinking, would lie and say yes. I would just stare at her like, “mom, Jesus is watching you, and we all know I’m 15”. Her response would always be the same.

“Wendy, I’m sorry, but unless Jesus has the $12.95 to feed you he needs to take a seat”.

She had me there.

P.S. Does this count as tattling on my mom?