Jan 20 2010
On embarrassment and poop 2
I’ve been embarrassed many times during my life. I had some doozies.
One of the most epic moments was in elementary school. I was in a tee pee. They had built a tee pee next to my school to teach us about the local Native American history and culture. The tee pee was our classroom for the hour. We sat in the traditional Indian-style in front of the Native American presenter while our teacher sat beside us to quell spontaneous childlike outbursts of questions and laughter. To my immediate right, my teacher. To my immediate left, the girl that I liked [insert monologue/sappy love song here]. The scene is set. Who cares? I did. Something happened. Something with high embarrassment potential. There was a lump in my pant leg. Sitting Indian style, my left leg’s pant cuff concealed from the view of the others (too engrossed learning about how Native Americans used *EVERY* part of the local deer), I slowly worked the lump towards my field of view. It felt cloth-y. I was at the edge of my seat. What. The. Doo doo. Underpants… … [red face] … … underpants with a brown streak … … [redder face] … [swearword redacted]… … Wearing one pair of underpants is fine, even inside of a tee pee. But my concern was not the tighty whities I had on my bum. My concern was the pair of tighty whities which somehow, the day before, made their way into my pant leg. I had a bundled up bunch of doo-doo-streaked bum cover-ers, and only one bum which needed covering. Girl-that-I-liked sitting Indian-style to my left, teacher sitting Indian-style to my right, the words from the Native American at the front of the tee pee no longer hit me. I was busy walking through (1) the stages of grief and (2) play-outs of this potentially tragic, embarrassing, traumatizing situation in my head. [denial] What? No…[anger] How! WHY IS THERE A PAIR OF UNDERPANTS CRUMPLED UP IN MY PANTS LEG.
[bargaining] Dear God, if you’d just make these underpants disappear I will stop picking my nose. Forever.
[depression] EVERYONE WILL LAUGH AT ME. THE GIRL THAT I LIKE WILL SEE THESE. [sob]
[acceptance] Keep your cool. Doo doo happens. Let’s do this, B. That’s when the voice of deceptive reason spoke to me. I’d call it my intelligence, my mom would call it The Devil. Either way, it told me:
- Neatly tuck these shit-streaked bad boys back in your pant leg.
- Don’t let on that something is happening. There are no underpants. [There is no spoon.]
- When we’re back in class, tell your teacher you need to go to the bathroom.
- Neatly place them in your locker.
- At the end of the day, sneak to your locker early. Re-stuff the white (brown striped) underpants back in your pant leg and hope (Praise Jesus) they stay lodged up there until you’re home.
Moral of the story is: to win at the game of embarrassment; don’t play. Avoid having bullshit flung your way.
No comments? Might be some elsewhere: cross-posted via web on my Posterous here.
