Celebrate Good Times, Come On!

Anyone ever ask, “What’s your most embarrassing moment? Huh huh?”. I will admit that when I have been asked this question I usually tell what I call a forgivable lie. My usual answer would be, “I don’t get embarrassed very easily. I tend to be able to laugh most things off.” Which is true. I don’t mind laughing at myself but the lie part is that I do have a “most embarrassing moment”. But come on people, there is a reason why I don’t tell anyone what it is…….BECAUSE IT”S EMBARRASSING!!!!!    Duh!

I have had the typical embarrassing moments, you know, falling down a flight of stairs in high school, drooling as I’m speaking to a group of people, accidentally asking two guys at the drive through window if they wanted a “dink tray” for there drinks instead of “drink tray”. But really these things aren’t embarrassing they are <strong>hilarious</strong>, especially the “dink tray” one, that one is really funny, ask me about it sometime. Everyone has moments like this so it isn’t really all that embarrassing. If you haven’t had one of these moments then you have not really experienced life.

I do have a truly embarrassing moment but in order to read it you must do two things. First: read my long drawn out story. Second: be able to stomach a little talk about “girl stuff”. Ready?……OK……..

Sexual Education class has got to be the biggest joke of a class ever invented. Not that the information isn’t important. I think it is valuable. The reason it is a joke is because I honestly think that most of the information covered in the classes should be covered at home. Unfortunately there are far too many parents out there that don’t think they need to talk to their kids about that kind of stuff. The other reason I think it is a bit of a joke is because really how many classes for how many years do you need to be told, “this is this, that is that, they do this, use protection, if you don’t they will look like this.”?  OK I know you learn more than that but really I only took one year of Sex Education classes and then Health and Bio and I knew more about how things worked than some of the kids who had taken all of the classes grade 4 – 8 and had practiced what they had been taught.

Why did I only take one year of Sex Ed? Because I knew quickly that the class was a joke. The teacher stood in front of us and told us that the first day of our first period should be a day of celebration. It should be a party, and that changing from a girl to a women is a beautiful and wonderful occasion. (cue sarcasm) Oh Yes. Just imagine the party you could throw. It could be themed. Lots of ketchup, red juice and a red velvet cake with tampons on top instead of candles. I’m not sure what kind of happy pills she was on but I wasn’t buying what she was selling.  I knew that no part of me was looking forward to all the “wonderful” changes she was talking about and I knew I wasn’t going to sit through years of classes where some wacky lady sugar coats hell.

I wasn’t the kind of girl who looked forward to wearing a training bra or shaving my legs or having the lining of my uterus make my life miserable. I knew that boobs would change everything. Boys can no longer just be your friend once you have boobs and girls can’t just be your friend if yours come earlier or are bigger or smaller. So I did everything I could think of to hide mine. I even refused to admit I was getting any. In a silent protest against the development of my breasts I refused to wear a bra. My mother told me I wasn’t aloud to leave the house without one but between the two of us we came to a compromise. I could leave the house without a bra if I wore a sweater, sweatshirt or more than one layer. Welcome to my grade five year, the year of sweatshirts, sweaters and layers.

Finally Grade six came and I could no longer go without. I gave in and wore a bra. Not that anyone would know cause I kept a jacket on the whole day. Eventually I got used to the idea and would go without sweaters and layers while wearing a bra but guess what? I was right. Everything changes once you have boobs. Boys treat you different girls treat you different. Insanely baggy clothes became the saving grace from my transforming body. I wore large shirts and pants that were sized 38 when I was probably an extra small. I cut my hair so short that I would have people tell me I was in the wrong washroom when I entered the little girls room. What does this have to do with my embarrassing moment you may be asking yourself? Just wait it’s coming.

In short I wasn’t all that thrilled about the whole becoming a woman thing and anything I could do to hide it was done. The hiding thing becomes a little difficult when you are a dancer though. Three to four times a week for a few hours each night I became a girl and wore a body suite and tights. It’s hard to hide anything in a body suite, it is especially hard to hide blood trickling down your leg in a body suite and tights. It was summer and me and a friend had enrolled in a ballet program far away from home. Our first day there was nerve racking and exciting and apparently one to celebrate. In a line up with a group of other girls I performed a dance step traveling across the floor while the rest of the class watched. As I reached the other side of the dance floor the instructor came up to me and very quietly and cryptically said to me, “Honey do you need to be excused? You are showing.” I looked at her slightly puzzled as one of the dancers just said to me,”Your period”. Quickly I left the room and entered the nearest bathroom. Not thinking to grab my bag as I exited the dance studio I found myself in the bathroom stall at a university with no one to help me. I stayed in that stall for a couple of hours till lunch. When I knew the dance room would be empty I grabbed my bag went back to the bathroom changed my dance clothes purchased a tampon and made my way to my afternoon classes. Cue the party. Isn’t that the best thing to ever happen to anyone, especially to someone who would have been content to never have anyone know she was a she. Cue the celebration, the velvet cake, and the……ridicule. Seriously I knew that lady was full of it.

Returning to classes wasn’t something I was excited to do. But because I loved dancing so much I was able to muster my bravery and go back and pretend like nothing had ever happened. Of course not everyone was as always willing to forget. I took a bit of mockery. A group of girls walked past me the next day and said, “What’s your favorite color?…..Red. Hahahah.” But after a few days of me pretending like nothing had happened and ignoring the whispers everyone else seemed to do the same. I even made a couple of friends.  At the end of the two week dance program we had a banquet. For a little fun they called each dancer up to the podium and had the rest of the dancers say ways that they would remember them. Cringe, I could just imagine what might be said when I stood up. I stood at the podium knowing what everyone was thinking and waiting for the inevitable……and then it came, “Her HUGE calf muscles”, one of my friends yelled. Few. Never had I been so happy to hear someone call my calves huge. Really no one want’s to relive their most embarrassing moment, so I’m glad the focus shifted to my bulbous calves instead of the day that I DIDN’T celebrate “becoming a women”.

So if you want to ask me what my most embarrassing moment is, I hope you really want to know cause I might actually tell you. Or I may just tell you a story about dink trays. Really everyone just wants to laugh when you share an embarrassing moment and falling down a flight of stairs or drooling is a lot funnier than getting your period in front of a classroom full of onlookers.

I considered it one of the greatest compliments ever given when in my late teens a guy told me he couldn’t tell when I was menstruating.”All the other girls get all moody but you never do.” I knew all the effort I put into hiding my affliction had not gone unnoticed and I appreciated it.

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