The Humiliation Chronicles

I realized today that my life has been nothing but a string of public humiliations. Here are some highlights.

There was that time in second grade right after Christmas. I'd gotten a Smurf transistor radio with headphones. I took it to school, and one day after I'd finished my work I put it on. I started singing along to Hall & Oats "Private Eye" really loudly. Not only did my teacher confiscate my kick-a Smurf transistor radio, but she also made me stand in front of the class and sing solo renditions of "I'm a Little Teapot" and "My Country 'Tis of Thee."


In third grade the class Ritalin case, Bobby Goodwin, came strutting in and announced that he "had sperm now." I was apparently the only kid in class who didn't know what sperm was and I was teased relentlessly for days.


In fourth grade I joined the kickball league. Really, do you need any more information that that? Fat kid + kickball team + bright purple jersey = humiliation.


In fifth grade I got a palette expander installed in the roof of my mouth just a couple of weeks before we moved out of state. This palette expander caused me to speak like a drunk German for months. So, I got to start a new school in a new state with a serious speech impediment. Oh yeah, and I couldn't really eat without food falling out of my mouth. And I was fat, too. Good times.


I spent all of middle school and the first two years of high school with this hairdo and with a wardrobe full of Hammer pants.



In Tenth grade I walked all the way home from school (about a mile) with my skirt tucked into my pantyhose. About 10 feet from my house a woman finally took pity on me and pulled over to tell me.


Twelfth grade:


Enough said.


In college, I went to a park with Will and a few other friends. There was a zip line. "Try the zip line!" Will said. "It's so much fun!" he said. So I did. Except the zip line wasn't meant for a 250 pound fat chick and instead of zipping along through the air, I was dragged along the ground until I fell off, much to the amusement of a bunch of 12 year old boys.



Two days ago I was in Wal-Mart and I passed gas. It was really, really bad. You have to understand that my intestines have been rerouted and it does things...horrible, unspeakable things...I try not to do it around other people, but sometimes it can't be helped. Anyway, I was hoping no one would notice, but a little kid in the cart near me said to his mother, "That lady smells like she had diarrhea." That was bad enough, but then I heard his mother say, "I think maybe she did."


I'm sure I've missed numerous other tales of humiliation. Feel free to add any that you can think of.