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Author Topic: What is the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to you when you were a kid?  (Read 18947 times)

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Oh I have so many. I was reminded of this by someone on Facebook. Much to my utter embarrassment!!

/BG At school I had a huuuuuuuuuuuge crush on a lad called Eddie. He was 2 years older than me and I fancied him like mad from when I was 11 to the age of about 17. I kind of stalked him with love letters (ugh) and he took it really, really well. He called me his greatest fan. He used to wait for me outside school to make sure my bullies didn't try to attack me, and made sure I got home OK. Basically, he turned out to be one of the best friends I ever had. He's now married (and his wife is lovely) and we keep in touch on Facebook. He constantly comments on pictures of my baby and DF and he get on really well. /BG

Anyway. I was in the school choir and we did small concerts in front of the school. The whole school. I was standing at the front in these concerts as I was (and still am) quite short. On this particular occasion, the elastic in my knickers snapped at the exact second we started singing. I was not wearing tights and there was very little I could do apart from keep hold of them, over my skirt. That song seemed to last forever. Oh, the shame.  Eddie was sitting right near the front because he was a prefect at the time. I think I nearly died. When the concert finally finished, I went straight to the Nurse's office and explained what had happened. I had to get my mum to come to the school with some new ones. The other kids bullied me about that for absolutely ages. I look back at it now and still blush furiously. Eddie, to his credit, never did jibe me about it. His friends did, though. :( After that day I always made sure I wore tights under my skirt, and kept a spare pair in my bag!!!!

What about you guys anyway?? xxx
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This could be an interesting thread and it's odd that no one has responded.

Thinking back, there must have been things in my larval stages that made me want to fall through the floor.  Everyone must have had tthings like this but we don't remember them. 

I do remember a time when I was about 6 years old.  I got drunk at my Grandparent's 50th Anniversary party.  The adults were dancing and I ate the fruit left in their cocktail glasses.  I was found asleep under a table. 

I was six at the time. 


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Really, I have too many to are a few:

Oddly, the first one is a choir story too.  I was first soprano, so I was on the top, far right if you were in the audience.  I had a very hectic day and really hadn't eaten much.  My bloodsugar got too low and combined with the heat from the lights and nerves, I fainted and fell off the back of the platform.  Luckily, the curtain was still closed and I broke my fall on a male friend that happened to be walking behind me. He sort of caught me, but we still went down.  I got teased for stagefright for a few years.

In first grade and in daycare I barfed all over my teacher.  I still say it was her fault for making me eat things I I said would make me sick.  Ditto for the daycare worker making me drink milk...I get "strings" from drinking plain milk.

In third grade I had a really bad stomach ache.  I told the teacher, but she wouldn't let me go to the nurse or office.  I sneezed and ended up spewing from both ends.  I would guess about a third of the students and the teacher followed suit with the barfing.  It was REALLY AWFUL.  I was sick for almost two solid weeks.  Strangely, it was the girls that tormented me the most on this.  The boys were quite impressed with the distance I managed to eject bodily fluids.
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When I was in the 8th grade, I was sitting in class, writing an exam.  I had one foot tucked under me on my chair, so of course I ended up cutting off the circulation to my foot til it was totally numb, though I didn't realise it at the time.  When I went to hand in my exam, my foot was completely dead and unresponsive; it felt like I had a block of wood on the end of my leg.  I managed a few steps, staggered forward and fell with a resounding crash into the front of the teacher's desk, in front of my entire class.

I'm now 30, and probably not that much more coordinated than I was then.
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When I was 8 years old, the math teacher who would give a pop quiz every week, then we'd mark each other's test, then the whole class would have to stand up at their desks.  She'd call out as follows:

"Sit down if you got 20 out of 20 correct..... Sit down if you got 19 out of 20 correct..... Sit down if you got 18 out of 20 correct...."  and so forth.   

And then when she got down to 3 out of 20 and I was the only child in the class still standing, she mocked me for it and everybody laughed.  I can clearly recall standing there, with her scathing expression fixed on me while my classmates (including my so-called friends) laughed at me. It wasn't just in passing, she stopped to call me out on it and made a joke.  I was a very self-conscious child and was mortified.

Oh, and for the record - I could *read* rings around those kids.  They assigned a book for us to read, and I took it home and read the entire book the first night.  In class we were supposed to sit in a circle and take turns s-l-o-w-l-y reading one sentence at a time each.  Most of my classmates could barely read even though they were clearly *so* much smarter than me and not mock-worthy.   I wish we'd had spelling bees, I would have won those and then who'd be laughing?  Incidentally, those kids weren't nasty, it was just one of those group situations - everybody was laughing.  Years later one of the girls asked me why I'd dropped out from school and I said I didn't like Mrs Jones.  She said "Oh yeah, she was such a terrible teacher.  Nobody from our class liked her."  So I imagine I missed more bullying and nasty behaviour throughout the year. (I dropped out a few weeks after the above incident and was homeschooled until age 16).  But that was such an embarassing experience.
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When I was in an experimental class when I was in 3rd grade (the class was made up of 3rd and 4th grade students) we started learning the times tables.  We were given one number per week to memorize all the answer up to 12, then be quizzed.  That wasn't the bad part.  The bad part was the teacher made a graph with all our names and under our names was a plastic car.  The car would track your progress with the quizzes, so if you passed the 5's then your car would sit under the next set of tables 6, and so forth until you passed that quiz for that set.  Numbers were never my strong suit, even with buying flashcards to help, (which my mother wouldn't help me with but that's another story in itself)  So there I was with my car stuck on the 5's while everybody else moved forward until I was very far behind everybody else.  I was mocked by my classmates and even to this day I don't remember how long it took me to complete the tables, and I still have issues with the times table past the 5's, so I use a calculator for almost all math I have to do today.  Asking me to try to calculate beyond the simplest math today with out a calculator stresses me out, and it didn't help when I started my current job 10 years ago and my boss would make disparaging comments on my math skills when I would resort to the calculator to figure something out, and then give the answer to me before I could finish up while mocking me.  Thankfully 10 years of adding up hours on time sheets has helped my math skills so I don't need the calculator for those anymore, and my boss has stopped commenting on not being able to do math in my head.


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I was an excellent student, but scared as heck of delivering memorized speeches or even written reports, so the other kids didn't suspect I was all that bright until each year's academic award ceremony.
I recall my sophomore year, we had to learn the "Friends, Romans, countrymen" speech from "Julius Caesar." I knew that thing backward and forward and probably could still recite it now (12 years later) with only a little trouble.
We were also supposed to get extra credit for dressing "like Romans." I wore a bedsheet "toga" and went up to the front of the class.

My lips began to tremble when it was my turn to stand in front of the class. I was flipping out. I got out the famous first line and couldn't remember a single other thing. I got through about 6 lines before I had to sit down. I ended up with a NEGATIVE grade (say, a -15) because the teacher counted off for each word we missed AND didn't notice my bedsheet, which had fallen around my ankles by the time I said "countrymen"!

I did muster the courage to ask her if she'd noticed me walking to the front of the room wearing the sheet, and she must have pitied me a little, 'cause she upgraded my grade to a 10.

I still do not know why English literature classes would put such emphasis on performance. I only did slightly better on other such assignments, though I was usually an A student otherwise.


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When I was about 12 or so and starting to "develop", I had a very awkward conversation with my great-uncle.  Keep in mind, I had basically grown up with Unc and adored him.  He was not a creeper.  But I don't think he really caught what he said. 
He was living in a house with his two widowed sisters.  (I am thinking that they were all in their mid to late 70's or so at the time)
One day my family went to visit the "aunts" and Unc.  When the visit was over, Dad and I went out on the porch with Unc while Mom finished talking to G-Aunt D about something.  Unc said to me something about "blossoming out to be a fine young lady."  In retrospect it was sweet and oldfashion.  But at 12 the world is horrifyingly embarassing, and this said in front of my dad, for pity's sake!! 
Mom came out about that time and Dad and I beat feet for the car.  ("Luv you Unc, gotto go.")   And yes, Dad thought it extremely funny to tell Mom.  SIGH.  Mom just chuckled and then told me Unc was probably just proud of the young adult I was growing up to be.  (And he was.)

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The day I accidentally almost shoplifted would have to be up there on the list.  I had gone to the trailer with a friend of mine and her family.  My parents had given me some money to treat my friend and her sister to ice cream or something a couple of times while I was there.  We went to the corner store in the trailer park and picked out some very large Mr. Freezies.  And I walked right out the door without paying for them, with the cashier watching me leave.  I realized it before I got off the porch and turned right back inside to go pay for them.  My face was sure red as I apologized.

Or how about the day I dropped my container of french fries off my tray with an entire crew of older kids watching me?  They did laugh and tease me but they convinced the guy behind the counter to give me another container of fries for free, so although I left embarrassed, I didn't leave hungry.
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When I was in the 4th grade, Valentine's Day fell on a Friday that year. On Fridays, I would be wearing my Junior Girl Scout uniform instead of our regular (and ugly) school uniform. However, that Friday we were allowed to wear red casual outfits.

But my mother still made me wear the Girl Scout uniform. I was afraid that I would be the only one wearing a GS uniform...and thus would be made be the "villain" if we had a pageant.

Well, I was the only one. No pageant or villains...BUT the class did a mock election to pick a "mayor" (we had been studying city government). They picked a male and a female- two very popular kids. I was pretty upset at this and was afraid that it was due to the uniform. I said "if Michelle is mayor, then I am the queen!", since I was so, well, PO'ed (back then I did not like it when I was NOT number one- and I still do not).

Everyone laughed. Teacher scolded me. I was very embarrassed.

Years later, when it was time to apply to college, I used this incident as the basis of an essay. Teacher who proofreaded it found it hilarious! Girl who had been elected mayor did not even remember it- but she was still very popular.

In retrospect, I do find it funny.
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I was staying over in a friends house for the first time. I was very shy and modest. We were changing for bed in her room. I managed to get changed into my pjs without exposing myself, but I still had my knickers on. So I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, etc. While there I removed my undies.

My friends grandmother was visiting at the time. She was senile. (this is relevant!)

I go into the bedroom and a few moments later my friend uses the bathroom. She comes back giggling like mad saying "oh, Granny really is loosing it, she left her underwear on the floor of the bathroom!"

 :-[ :-[ :-[

Nope, it was mine. I rushed back in there to pick it up and then rushed back and threw myself into bed and prayed she'd never bring it ip again.
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When I was 8 years old, the math teacher who would give a pop quiz every week, then we'd mark each other's test, then the whole class would have to stand up at their desks.  She'd call out as follows:

"Sit down if you got 20 out of 20 correct..... Sit down if you got 19 out of 20 correct..... Sit down if you got 18 out of 20 correct...."  and so forth.
I thought I had blocked/forgotten all of the stuff like that, but your story brought this memory to the surface again.

Valentine's Day, in 3rd or 4th grade.  We'd made crepe-paper covered boxes in art class to collect our Valentines in.  My mother made me send one to everyone in the class, even the nasty boys that I'd rather have smacked with a baseball bat.  After the class had distributed them, the teacher made us stand up and say how many we'd gotten; her thought was that the boy and girl with the most Valentines would be the "Valentine King and Queen" for the party.

She must not have thought about the Valentine Goat.  Out of a class of 30 kids, I got four.  :-\ 
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She must not have thought about the Valentine Goat.  Out of a class of 30 kids, I got four.  :-\
This was me every year too. Why why why did we have to disclose how few we got? :(


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She must not have thought about the Valentine Goat.  Out of a class of 30 kids, I got four.  :-\
This was me every year too. Why why why did we have to disclose how few we got? :(

Say what you will about 'kids today' and whatnot, but every time I hear a story like this I'm grateful we (late '80s/early '90s) were required to give valentines to everyone if we wanted to participate in the class party at all. Kids like me weren't left out in those years when our friendships were few and far between.

It was a struggle to find the least-mushy cards in the pack for the 'icky' boys some years, though!


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And why is it so many of these stories are centered around school, and teachers INSISTING on making public in class results of tests, and other things like that?  I was very unpopular in school, from 4-6 grades. We had moved, and I was painfully shy, VERY self-concious and quiet.  If I had ever had to announce how many valentine's I got I would have been mortified as I KNOW it was probably very few compared to everyone else.  Thankfully that never happened, but really?  Who thought that was a good idea?

My embarassing moments were gym class in those grades, where you had to be picked for teams.  I was always last.  and then all the other kids would groan about how they were stuck with me. Well, I'm sorry that wearing coke bottle glasses and having no depth perception whatsoever made me terrible at sports.  And I'm sorry you were stuck with me.  Not like I could help it or anything.

My other embarassing moment, also in gym class, was in 7th grade?  With those stupid presidential fitness challanges.  Where you had to do sit ups and pull ups and so on? My gym teacher would pair us off, then we'd do whatever, then he'd call your name and you had to yell out how many of what you did. Again, not being particularly athletic, say for sit ups, you'd hear, 35, 42, and so on, and then me with like 15 which was an effort.