Ferocious Fox 7
Do you remember what you considered embarrassing in Jr. High and High school? I do.
Truth or dare? . . . Truth . . . What's your most embarrassing moment? . . . This one time my top fell off at the pool.
Embarrassing moments become less funny and more personal, or so I have found, as you become an adult. Embarrassing moments become humiliating moments.
*** *** ***
We walked into the airport. I was stiff and afraid; meanwhile, he seemed comfortable with his hand resting on my lower back the way it had a million times before. We approached the ticket counter to check me in,
"your bags are over weight" the woman informed us.
"It's fine," I felt like I had screamed but it came come a hushed whisper.
"Excuse me?"
"Just check them," I felt my voice crack as I thrust my card at her and at the same time I felt his hand press harder into my back. She took my credit card and did just that. I could have left the bags.
We walked toward security and he pulled me close against him. Kissing me hard, a good bye. He whispered in my ear, "I can still forgive you. Stay." I turned away and walked so slowly it hurt toward the security check point. I never looked back.
"You are going to have to take off the sunglasses," the security guard said. Unfeeling I pulled them off, and he dropped my ID. "Please don't say anything... Please God just let me through . . . He's right there," I prayed that my eyes conveyed how important it was that I get through the gate. It must have worked because I next remember walking through the metal detector. It beeped but no one stopped me. I died the moment I was on the other side.
I was four hours early for my flight. I pulled myself up the stairs and turned left to the coffee shop. I was shaking. "Venti non fat iced latte," my voice more than cracked, it broke. The woman made my drink and then told me the price. This time I dropped the card. My hands quaked so badly they wouldn't pick it up. She walked out from behind the counter and picked up my card, "don't worry about it". I couldn't say thank you.
I walked toward the gate. I knew I had started bleeding again. I could feel it under my tights. Half way down the hall I froze unable to take another step. The coffee cup slipped from my hand and I gave in. Panic slammed full force and I wept sucking in air as thought I had been trapped underwater for days. I didn't want to keep breathing.
There was no slow coming to terms, there was just the cliff that you fall off of when your adrenaline stops. Then there was pain. Not heart break pain, real pain. The kind of pain you feel when your jaw is out of its socket. The kind of pain you feel when you lift your skirt and see your thighs in a spectra of colors you've only seen in the blue section of crayon boxes. That kind of pain levels you. I remember that pain.
There was a beautiful black woman watching this happen. She ran over to me, "do you need help?" "Don't touch me," I screamed crawling away, "God please don't touch me." She sat down on the floor and pulled me into her lap. My whole body wracked with sobs I could no longer hold back. She held me and cooed, in a way that only a mother would know, until I calmed, "do you want me to call an ambulance, the police?" I started to panic again, "please no, I just want to go home." She nodded. I needed to go home.
She took me into the bathroom and helped me clean up. I remember her eyes brimming with tears, and then little else until I got off of the plane. The last thing she said to me as we parted company was "God loves you, he'll take care of you." I attempted a smile. I think you should know that God died 12 hours ago.
*** *** ***
What's the most embarrassing moment? None of what happened that day or even the night before. The most embarrassing moments I've ever experienced were the looks of pity. The 'oh you poor thing' moments. The reassurances that everything would be fine. Being pitied is the only thing I still believe to be truly embarrassing.
Truth or dare? . . . Truth . . . What's your most embarrassing moment? . . . This one time my top fell off at the pool.
Embarrassing moments become less funny and more personal, or so I have found, as you become an adult. Embarrassing moments become humiliating moments.
*** *** ***
We walked into the airport. I was stiff and afraid; meanwhile, he seemed comfortable with his hand resting on my lower back the way it had a million times before. We approached the ticket counter to check me in,
"your bags are over weight" the woman informed us.
"It's fine," I felt like I had screamed but it came come a hushed whisper.
"Excuse me?"
"Just check them," I felt my voice crack as I thrust my card at her and at the same time I felt his hand press harder into my back. She took my credit card and did just that. I could have left the bags.
We walked toward security and he pulled me close against him. Kissing me hard, a good bye. He whispered in my ear, "I can still forgive you. Stay." I turned away and walked so slowly it hurt toward the security check point. I never looked back.
"You are going to have to take off the sunglasses," the security guard said. Unfeeling I pulled them off, and he dropped my ID. "Please don't say anything... Please God just let me through . . . He's right there," I prayed that my eyes conveyed how important it was that I get through the gate. It must have worked because I next remember walking through the metal detector. It beeped but no one stopped me. I died the moment I was on the other side.
I was four hours early for my flight. I pulled myself up the stairs and turned left to the coffee shop. I was shaking. "Venti non fat iced latte," my voice more than cracked, it broke. The woman made my drink and then told me the price. This time I dropped the card. My hands quaked so badly they wouldn't pick it up. She walked out from behind the counter and picked up my card, "don't worry about it". I couldn't say thank you.
I walked toward the gate. I knew I had started bleeding again. I could feel it under my tights. Half way down the hall I froze unable to take another step. The coffee cup slipped from my hand and I gave in. Panic slammed full force and I wept sucking in air as thought I had been trapped underwater for days. I didn't want to keep breathing.
There was no slow coming to terms, there was just the cliff that you fall off of when your adrenaline stops. Then there was pain. Not heart break pain, real pain. The kind of pain you feel when your jaw is out of its socket. The kind of pain you feel when you lift your skirt and see your thighs in a spectra of colors you've only seen in the blue section of crayon boxes. That kind of pain levels you. I remember that pain.
There was a beautiful black woman watching this happen. She ran over to me, "do you need help?" "Don't touch me," I screamed crawling away, "God please don't touch me." She sat down on the floor and pulled me into her lap. My whole body wracked with sobs I could no longer hold back. She held me and cooed, in a way that only a mother would know, until I calmed, "do you want me to call an ambulance, the police?" I started to panic again, "please no, I just want to go home." She nodded. I needed to go home.
She took me into the bathroom and helped me clean up. I remember her eyes brimming with tears, and then little else until I got off of the plane. The last thing she said to me as we parted company was "God loves you, he'll take care of you." I attempted a smile. I think you should know that God died 12 hours ago.
*** *** ***
What's the most embarrassing moment? None of what happened that day or even the night before. The most embarrassing moments I've ever experienced were the looks of pity. The 'oh you poor thing' moments. The reassurances that everything would be fine. Being pitied is the only thing I still believe to be truly embarrassing.
posted by Anonymous at 10:07 PM
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