Every minute of my middle school years was an embarrassment.
Alright, first I guess I should paint a picture for you.
I was the scraggly type of skinny with thick, giant, plastic glasses, stringy hair, crooked teeth, and I was constantly nervous when someone talked to me. Scribble out that last was, I'm still shy.
When teachers called on me in class to tell them an answer, blood rushed to my face, my throat immediately closed up, and I struggled to clear it so my voice could get through.
I got worked up because I knew I'd get made fun of by the boys in my class. Ironically, they always laughed at me trying to clear my throat and my whisper of an answer to the teacher. The popular girls were just as bad, but they were less obvious about it - they just made it clear that they would never, ever be seen speaking to me. Yeah.
I never let any of them see how they affected me; how I was humiliated whenever I was forced to stand out. The object of my days was to blend in. Not cause any attention. Not get laughed at or have them get in my face and yell things like, C'mon! during sports ... or other random words in the hallway just because seeing the reaction on my face when they got that close to me and screamed was like a fun game to them. There were also a couple nicknames I'm not strong enough to admit to publicly on the internet.
In seventh grade, our literature teacher had us do monthly book reports ... and by reporting, we had to stand in front of the class and talk about the book for a minimum of two entire minutes. We could use note cards, but we weren't allowed to read from them. We could only write key phrases on a total of 3 cards, and that wicked teacher checked the notecards for any rule breaking before we stood up to talk.
You cannot even imagine the torment a person like me went through during the week of those reports. For every day that got closer to my turn, they may as well have been executing me. I suppose I got through them alright.
I hadn't eaten that day because my nerves had me nauseous, and on top of that, my stomach was starting to twist into knots. I walked to the podium with my notecards. I looked up to see thirty-something of my enemies staring at me in silence, waiting for new material. I already knew they were judging my hair. My face. My shoes. Whatever else was wrong with me that I was oblivious to. My face pulsed. I stared at my notecards, waiting for the words I'd written to remind me of the speech I'd practiced. No words came. The only thing that existed was the heat under my face. The silence ticked on, and what was probably 10 seconds felt like four minutes of gawking silence.
I guess by the time I'd formed some sort of sentence, I'd failed to notice that my throat had long since done the whole closing up routine, and the sounds I made were muffled by the lumpy frog. Some snickers popped around the room.
The heated face temp rose to boiling; sentence formation flew out the window. I flung my head in the direction of my teacher - and I guess she read my eyes the only way they could be read - filled with plea to get me out of this situation. Her voice was void of any inkling of pity - Meghann, sit down and regroup.
What?! Nobody regroups around here. We get up, robot through our task, clap for eachother and sit back down. We all play through like we're confident and know what we're doing. Nobody falters. Not at book reports, not at life.
I crumpled into my desk and did the worst thing I could have possibly done in that moment. I put my head down and cried. In the silence. With everyone watching. The teacher said nothing.
I want to finish this story for you, but I don't remember anything else but the tears, the stinging embarrassment and the dark comfort of my head tucked into my folded arms on the desk after that. I know there were gasps, and I know that I hated everyone there with a sharp rage because they were being so quiet. I knew if I'd looked up, I would have seen people looking back and forth from eachother to me with their OhmyGod looks on their faces and mouths wide open. I knew I'd just been filed into a new, never seen category of nerd-dom ... probably the same one as the kid with B.O. who wiped his boogers under desks ... and that thought pushed even more tears onto the desktop. Then I realized I was crying, and that made me cry even harder.
By now they've all forgotten how they treated me for those years. Looking back, they'll remember I was a dork and nothing more. They'll continue in their self-righteousness and oblivion. But me? I'm better for all I endured.
In life, when I've been asked my my most embarrassing moment, explaining it never quite conveys the grave impact that day had in my mind. Few know the daily internal struggle I lived with or the personalities of my classmates. The ones who do understand have likely fought through similar situations in school as a kid.
I've tried telling Matt the story, and it came out something like, I was a major nerd ... we had to make these speeches ... I forgot my words ... I sat back down and cried in front of everyone. And when Matt looked unmoved, I'd rehash, Matt, I cried. In front of EVERYONE.
Uh yeah, that sounds bad, he might have said. (Yes, he has a seat reserved at this computer chair as soon as I'm finished writing this post.) Not to sound completely off my rocker, but I'm 900% sure that if he had been there - or even seen me at that age - he never would have married me.
I'm happy I got to write my most embarrassing moment for you. When I write, everything's so much easier to explain. Please still be my friend.
And my second most embarrassing moment? Posting these pictures of myself on the internet.
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Day 7. Do you believe in the "cry until he sleeps" method?
Day 8. Have a beauty secret (e.g. hair tip, make up tip)? Share, please!
Day 9. What virtues do you value in yourself?
Day 10. What are some of your favorite MAC products, and what foundation/powder do you wear?
Day 11. Post a recipe. Or if you don't cook, try a new recipe and write about how it turned out (pictures please!).
Day 12. Write about what wears you out as a woman.
Day 13. Write a blog thanking someone who's made your heart come alive.
Day 14. Style 31. Post an outfit pic!
Day 15. What do you wish for?
Day 16. How old was Carter when he started sleeping through the night and how did you do this?
Day 17. Write about 3 things that make you happy.
Day 18. If you could, what would you tell yourself before you had your baby?
Day 19. Write about your significant other
Day 20. Write about your job and why you love it or hate it.
Day 21. Write about your most vivid childhood memory. Post a picture of you taken over ten years ago.
Day 22. What did you do today?
Day 23. Who's your celebrity look alike?
Day 24. What is God teaching you presently?
Day 25. Style 31. Post a pic of your favorite comfy clothes.
Day 26. What do you hope your grandchildren will say about you someday when you are gone?
Day 27. Who are your favorite bloggers?
Day 28. Write about your insecurities as a woman.
Day 29. Your day, in great detail
Day 30. What do you think is going to happen to you after you die?
Day 31. Your favorite quote
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