Monday, December 18, 2006

Embarrassing moments.......

We have all had them. Some of ours are worse than others. Some leave a person scarred for life and some leave a person with a renewed sense of strength. And some, well some are.. well, JUST embarrassing.

I have had many, and I mean many, embarrassing moments. You name it. I have probably had it. I have fell down bleachers in front of an auditorium full of rodeo final fans....I have had aunt flow show up on the back of my pants with no advance warning with a HOUSEFULL of people.....I have even showed up to work with what I will call mouth mucus on my shirt that obviously didn't make it into my hand when I covered my mouth, (as our mothers tell us to do) when I sneezed.

However I think that what differentiates my next embarrassing moment from the rest is that I wasn't even present when the actual embarrassment took place.


As my very few readers know, I have lived in the country my whole life. Because of this I have never been, and still aren't, a "pull the blinds" kind of girl. In fact, I have never been exceedingly modest, even when I lived at home. Blame it on location...blame it on my family....blame it on me. But it is a fact.

Argument: Why to blame it on my family: Ask my high school friends. They can offer me a defense. They KNOW. They have seen my dad exiting his comfy recliner, heading towards his bedroom......with only his tighty whiteys on....as if it is their fault that they came to the door. (gasp!) Also a common sight around my house was my mother multi-tasking in her bra and panties while getting ready.

Argument: Why it should be blamed on location: Well, this one is kind of boring. But in the country, you are given a false sense of privacy. The chances of being caught in your underwear or naked pale in comparison to the chances of not getting caught. EX: I was great at running to the clothesline in my underwear to get the clothes that I wanted to wear off the clothesline and NOT get caught. Timing......and listening for cars. Those are the secrets, I tell you.

Argument: Why it is my fault: I am a smart girl. I should know better. Years of running around half naked are BOUND to catch up with you. Even if you thought you were too sneaky for that.

When I was about 17 years old I was at home getting ready to go out that night. I had done my hair and make-up but before settling on whatever sexy, irresistable, cowgirl (of course) attire I would wear had decided to start some laundry for my mom. Our laundry room was where are back door was located. Our "back door" was actually our side door and was the door used by anyone and everyone who wasn't a salesman or Jehovah's witness. (no offense meant)

As I was putting in the laundry, the phone rang. The phone was not one of the cordless variety. Nooooo, it hung on the wall seperating the laundry room and dining room and had a cord that was stretched out and tangled...... I was carrying on a conversation, minding my own business when our neighbor pulled in.

Now this neighbor isn't your typical country, mind-your-own-business, neighbor. He is an "implant". An Italian, city building inspector, trying to be a farmer. GREAT! WONDERFUL! I am here in my underwear trapped between the "back door" and the picture window in the dining room. So in an effort to save, ummmm.....face, I crouched down, against the door he was knocking on and held my breath and waited......and waited.......and waited.......and waited.

This guy would NOT give up.

I am not home!!!!......Don't you get the picture? GO AWAY!

-In hindsight I should of just popped up and said, "Hello, can I help you?"

Eventually he went away. My heart was racing....I was a little flushed. And like someone with a hangover puking in the toliet, I promised myself..."I will NEVER do that again!" WHEW! That was close!

I disclosed all of this to my mom when she made it home that day. Funny, huh? Leave it to me....chuckle, chuckle. All is well. Or maybe not.

A week later, Mr. Italian neighbor shows up again. I am not home, but my precious mother was.

"Mrs. Mom, uummm, I need to talk to you about your daughter...."

Oh, OK, what's going on?

"well, your daughter (me) has a heavy foot"

So my mother, in an effort to "help" me, tells him: Oh, you must of heard her running for cover. The reason she didn't answer the door is because you had caught her naked....and she was hiding....from you, behind the door. Sorry. (I am sure there was a definate eye roll here)

Apparently the look on his face alerted my mother that he didn't know what she was talking about, but now had an image flashing through his mind that he didn't really want to have there.

"Uh, actually, Mrs. Mom, I was just going to tell you that she drives a little too fast. Just wanted to let you know. I'd hate for her to have an accident or anything. Um, I better go now.....Bye"


So, you see, I was actually absent, for one of my most embarrassing moments to date. Thanks Mom!

12 comments:

The Sour Kraut said...

I would've thought that Flo's unexpected arrival would have been more embarrassing. Please consider the subject for a future post.

I recently got caught in a "white lie" and had to fess up to my son's teacher. Now she must think that he has crazy parents.

Karen Forest said...

Interesting....I would love to hear the story about the "white lie".

Flo's arrival was embarrasing. Probably more so than this story, however, I was....11, maybe 12, and it was in front of A LOT of family, EXTENDED family that I didn't know well and that were ummm...different. I begged my mom to take me home and she was mad at me because "I wasn't prepared". She told me to go sit on the front porch and wait until they were ready to go home, which wasn't anytime soon.

So, as a humiliated child, I sat, rear end down on the concrete front porch to hide the obviousness of the situation. A few well meaning aunts came out to converse with me and pretend that nothing was wrong.

As an adult I can now see that even more wrong than "me not being prepared" was my mothers reaction.

This is one of those moments that have left scars.

Oh, The Joys said...

I'm going to have to come clean...

Karen Forest said...

Well.....lets hear it!

The Medium Swede said...

I believe TSK has blogged about me farting during a lull at an outdoor symphony performance. If not, there you go.

The Sour Kraut said...

We have an 82-year-old neighbor who served in the Pacific in WWII. He has an unbelievable heroic record of surviving three ship sinkings and has received a number of metals, including The Silver Star. I thought it would be a good idea to invite him to our 9-year-old's gifted class as a guest speaker for Veteran's Day. However, this man is a TALKER! He doesn't stop. Even our very, very talkative neighbor complains that there is never a conversation less than 3 hours long with this man.

I called the teacher who said they had a small window of classtime open and yes, they'd like him to come in and speak but could he keep it to 20 minutes and "dumb it down" to a 4th graders level of understanding? (Okay, I admit, she didn't use the term "dumb it down" but in essence that's what she wanted him to do.)

That night, I awoke in the middle of the night which is when my mind exaggerates everything and I started to panic about this situation. I was feeling responsible on both ends; this man's and my son's classroom. I decided that he was probably incapable of keeping it short and may get offended if he was rushed. I decided that the children were only 3rd and 4th graders and had not yet been taught about WWII so they'd be bored. I decided it was an ill-concieved idea that I needed to un-do. I decided to make up a lie.

I told the man that the Vet's Day program had already been planned and, unfortunately, they couldn't accommodate him but perhaps they could in the future. I told the teacher that he was having health issues.

The next day, I received a message from the teacher asking how to spell his name because all the kids were making him cards. "Oh no", I thought, "they're making him get well cards."

When the cards were sent home with our son, they were Veteran's Day thank you cards. They also indicated how much these kids actually knew about the war. (guilt)

About a day or so later, I got a message from the man asking what the teacher's name was. Sheesh! Doesn't anybody just not respond anymore? He was writing back to each and every child in the class. (more guilt)

Each letter said something about the program not allowing time for his visit. Oh no no. Our son was thrilled to get his letter and I didn't want to deprive the other kids from getting theirs. That, along with the fact that this nice gentleman took the time to write to each child, made me feel like the letters had to be passed on to the children. I had to come up with another plan. I could re-write each letter omitting the reference, I could tell her he must be confused, or I could tell her that I told a lie. I decided to come clean with the teacher. I admitted that I told him the program had already been booked. Then, I added another lie and told her that his health was poor and I had to tell him the lie to make sure he didn't come -- it was for his own good, you know.

She just nodded while I spoke. I'm sure she thinks I'm nuts.

The Sour Kraut said...

I'm saving my most embarrassing moment for my next flashback post.

The Sour Kraut said...

I am very hard on our older son. It makes me wonder what scars he will be left with. I pray for patience and guidance.

Karen Forest said...

I know without a doubt my mom loves me. But she always made me feel "not-good-enough". It is amazing to hear how she speaks about me and our relationship to others. Her perception and mine are way off!

I try to just work it all out in my head and not make waves with her. I know that I am probably screwing my kids up and will go through the same thing some day. I try not to make the same mistakes but.............

ExamBo said...

I am a firm believer that every parent has the right to screw their children up. This stuff happens. There is a generational gap that exists that causes different views between parents and children. Who knows, Karen, maybe your grandma did something to your mother to scar her. I am sure, though, that the scars pale in comparison to the love our parents have shown us.

By the way....I have also run to the clothes line in just my bra and panties. I still catch myself being a little "free" with my attire in the city. I should really just leave my blinds closed.

Karen Forest said...

Actually, Exambo, my mother claims that her mother was the "perfect mom". She said she never made her feel insecure, inferior, unimportant....you name it.

I think that no one is perfect and that you are probably right. My grandma, as you know, was absent for a great deal of my mothers life. She was in between doctors and lastly a.....(forget politically correct)....nuthouse. Doctors thought she was crazy until a dr. from our little home town finally got it right. Yep, that is when they discovered the brain tumor. It was removed shortly after my birth. I can attest that I did have absolutely the most perfect grandma ever and she was all the things my mother said and more. But NO ONE is perfect.....and my grandma is no exception. And although her sickness was not her fault I am sure there are scars that were left as a result of it. No one is immune.

The Sour Kraut said...

TMS has a "nutball" sister. To hear his mom talk about her, you'd think she was the perfect child. It's funny how parenting can blind you to one's faults.