It’s Time to Put on Your Big Girl Panties: Life is Getting Embarrassing

pants-downThe thing about being me: I embarrass myself regularly, so there’s never a shortage of mortifying moments in my life.

I could tell you about the time I sharted in my skirt on a flight to Houston and stuffed my undies in the teeny bathroom trash basket and flew the rest of the way commando and then my luggage was lost and I was underwearless for three days, but that’s more lame than embarrassing, really.

Note: The airline kept saying the delivery of my bag was imminent, which explains the delay in the purchase of replacement underwear. And also, I kind of liked it. Being commando, I mean.

What was I talking about?

Oh, yes. Embarrassing moments.

The Setting: A high school parking lot, in front of a gym, circa 1980. I am running across the parking lot, where the bus is rumbling its impatience.  My long golden hair is blowing in the wind and I am tossing my head, fabulously. The driver honks. My twin brother is ahead of me, but mostly because he’s not in a skirt and cute shoes, and not because of his great speed. On the bus the rest of the Gridley Bulldogs Boys Varsity Basketball Team wait for us, the straggler and his sister, the stats girl. Once we board the bus, we will head off to play some other small town team like The Honkers (seriously), The Wolverines (seriously), or The Musketeers.

Note: Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I made that last one up. But that’d be cool, right? The refs calls a jump ball but instead of jumping, the guys have a sword fight for possession. Of the ball, of course. This is a brilliant idea. I need to write this down.

So, I juggle my textbooks and toss my head, of course. The team calls from the windows. The bus rumbles. The driver honks. And somehow, in the midst of the tossing and juggling and calling and rumbling and honking, I find myself stumbling. Over my skirt. Which has somehow ended up on the sidewalk. At my feet, yes.

In front of the entire Gridley High Bulldogs. 

Sweet Holy Moses.

At least I didn’t shart.

Embarrassedly yours, Bacon

So, Oleander, are we even? I think the world should hear your thoughts now about team mascots. Choose a sport, it matters not. They are all ridiculous. What would your team be called?