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!