UPDATE UPDATE

Wow, after several years ive decided to try and resurrect this little blog of mine. I recently told a friend I missed having a place to write. Then out of nowhere a blog "challenge" if you will came about on a public group im in. So here I am and I'm going to try and keep this thing going. Bare with me as I make changes and update content. Feel free to sift through my old posts, you just might learn something new about me....

Monday, May 31, 2010

You asked for it: The Skid Mark Story

Think back to junior high will you. What click did you belong to? I thought I was part of the semi-popular group, but I thought wrong. In reality I was a loser. I was a big nerd. I used to dress like my mother {not that my mom had bad fashion sense, but well, she dressed like a working adult in the 90’s} in vests with turtlenecks, long sweaters over stirrup pants and cardigans with crocheted cows on them. I was so not cool. I was in band and choir, and my best friend was just as uncool as I. She had a thing {and still does to this day} for random decorative socks and often wore Christmas socks in May. She also was in band and choir with me and had a niche for bright colored pants like lime green jeans and purple corduroys.

You needed all that background because I want you to really grasp the severity of my humiliation. I was already picked on. I had already had a popular girl put gum in my hair during math class and had already been made fun of openly for not shaving my legs in 6th grade. What happened on one rainy picture day just sealed my deal and a big dork in junior high.

As I mentioned it was picture day. Not picture day for everyone though, just those of us in band. Yep, band pictures. I played flute. I had a new dress, which again was in the mom fashion category, it was blue and white gingham, long with buttons all the way down the front, and the real kicker was that it had shoulder pads. I had my hair in a French braid. I even had brand new navy blue flats with a little gold buckle on the toes. I thought I looked great. You know, minus the severe acne and braces. My mom always dropped me off for school and today was not much different. Except instead of dropping me off at the top of the grass hill by the front door, I was dropped off at the bottom of the hill and had to muck through the mud.

I got to the top of the hill and walked into the front entrance of the school. It was early, I was always early to school, so not too many people had gathered in the halls yet. This further shows you my super nerdiness. I take one step, then two, and then my slick with water and mud new dress shoes failed me. I slid a good 10 feet down the main hallway coming to a stop flat on my back with my bag on the ground and my flute case in hand – my dress blown up above my head. My principal, who was a guy mind you, Mr. Nordby if I recall correctly, arrived promptly at my side. He reached down and helped me up while trying to hold back laughs. Yes folks, even my school principal was laughing in my face.

As I gathered my self up and assured the principal I was fine I realized that there were far more people in the building than I first noticed, and they had all seen me slide down the hall like I was on a slip n’ slide. Soo embarrassing. However, the most embarrassing part was yet to come. I started to coward away and try to hide and forget what happened when I saw that there were 2 long black skid marks on the hall floor. Not the kind you find in a young boys tighty whities, the kind from a new pair of rubber soled shoes. You know, scuff marks. These weren’t just scuff marks though; they were long dark lines that could not be just “rubbed out” of the tile.

For the rest of the day I went without my dress shoes or I held my best friend’s arm down the halls as I was paranoid of falling down again. For reasons still unknown to me the hall remained scuffed up for the rest of the week, perhaps just to rub in my face my huge fall, more likely they only waxed the floors on the weekends. Everyone saw them, and every time people noticed the marks someone would loudly ask what happened, I could not escape it. People knew, and people were talking.

From that day on I would not wear dress shoes to school. Even in high school I don’t recall wearing dress shoes or dresses. To this day I am still paranoid about falling down when I do wear heels. I had Kris scuff up my heels that I wore on our wedding day even though the floor was carpet at the church. I could just see a repeat experience happening on the most important day of my life. This time it would have been caught on film. Thankfully I didn’t fall on my wedding day, but I still hesitate to wear dress shoes.

4 comments:

Care said...

Hahahaha please tell me you took those pictures? I NEED to see this outfit!

That must have been horrible/life ending/life altering humiliation at that age when everything seems so huge. I'll never forget the time my friend glued her ears to her head with superglue and I stuffed my bra... well thats a story for another day. LOL

Mommy's Sippy Cup said...

Oh, girl! I'm trying not to laugh, but I so know how you feel! I started my period in 6th grade in the middle of my choir performance wearing white sweat pants. The entire school saw. Talk about humilation! I was mortified!

makemommygosomethingsomething said...

I'm sorry but that was pretty.DAMN. FUNNY!!!! HAHAHAHA.

makemommygosomethingsomething said...

I'm sorry but that was pretty.DAMN. FUNNY!!!! HAHAHAHA.

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