Day 10, Friday: Most embarrassing moment (s). Spill.
So this will be brief. I’m already sweating.
I like to tell people that my most embarrassing moment was the time I fell off the ski lift halfway up the mountain. It WAS embarrassing, and it makes for a funny story, one that’s easy to tell. But that’s not my most embarrassing moment.
Or sometimes I’ll tell about the time I got so nervous during an oral report that I was suddenly nauseous and so light-headed that I had to sit down with my head between my knees. Not my finest hour. But that wasn’t my most embarrassing moment either.
No, my most embarrassing moment, in hindsight, was the most embarrassing simply because of when it happened. Sometimes (or often) when you’re a shy 14 year old freshman, life is embarrassing. Going to school is embarrassing. Doing anything is embarrassing. Add to that a crush… a giant crush. The kind of crush that.. well, HURTS. And make it on a senior too, just for good measure. A popular, athletic senior. One who was loved by jocks and nerds alike.
I didn’t know him. Never even talked to him. But I stood near him once, in close proximity. That’s when I….
Seriously, is it hot in here?
So, I had a crush on this beautiful, beautiful boy, and one night we were at the same party. I remember NOTHING else about the night… who I was with, where we were exactly… just that I was there and he was there. And oh, he looked so good. And was so relaxed, and so happy, and so friendly. And I was desperately trying to be “cool,” and not be awkward. And not be embarrassed. And not be nervous about the fact that he was OH EM GEE suddenly standing right next to me.
That’s when I farted.
I’d like, would LOVE in fact, to be able to say that more delicately. But oh no. It was a fart. A loud one. Loud enough to make everyone (I think it was 3 people, might as well have been 137) turn and laugh, and prompt my friend to say, “Jen that’s disgusting!”
You know how people say they wish the floor would swallow them whole? I’m pretty sure the person who coined that expression had gas of some kind, because a more fitting description there never was. I stood, frozen, not able to look at anyone. And when I finally looked at him – was it 30 seconds later, 3 minutes later? – he did nothing but offer up a polite smile, which somehow made the whole thing even worse.
The good that came out of it? It very abruptly cured me of my crush, as it’s pretty hard to maintain a proper crush on someone that you carefully avoid so much as looking at for the rest of your high school days. He quite literally ceased to exist to me after that day, and for all I know he forever remembered me as The Fart Girl.
And we both lived happily - and separately – ever after. The end.
P.S. If you’re in the mood for a far, far better fart story, read this: The Fart That (Almost) Altered My Destiny