I’m one of those really annoying people who says things like I don’t get embarrassed easily.
I guess I just have a pretty good personal understanding of how deep my foot in mouth syndrome streak goes, and I’m comfortable with it. Comfortable enough so that when I roll my ankle while walking down a gently sloped hill, accidentally blast BANGERZ from my iPhone speaker in the middle of class, or spill my drink all over myself, I can generally cope pretty well.
That being said, there are three distinct moments in my life that I can specifically remember not just being embarrassed, but being struck with something… deeper. Like, if bone shame was a thing, that would have been it.
1. Going to Lush, and asking for $15 worth of “Blackface” instead of “Coalface.”
I distinctly remember the moment when the words came out of my mouth. The expression on the sales assistant’s face when what I had just asked for dawned on both of us.
She was way, way more professional than I probably would have been in the same position, and, even as I fumbled my debit card across the sales counter and my little package of black colored soap, we both maintained our poker faces and accompanying smiles.
2. Backing into the Drive-Thru sign in a, you guessed it, McDonalds drive through.
No, I don’t remember what I was doing at a McDonalds, nor do I have any idea why I was trying to back out of the drive through in my car. But it happened.
A little too much gas, and my back left tire jumped the curb and rolled over a foot of wood chips, which luckily gave me enough time to hit my breaks. But it happened. I know it, the night crew at McDonalds knows it. And the drunk girl that was sitting at the bus stop across the street probably knows it, too.
3. Referring to Schindler’s List as Schindler’s Fist for three years, without anybody correcting me.
Three years is a long time to refer to a classic film by the wrong name. In fact, if I ever were to cite a real, actual most embarrassing moment, those three years would probably be it.
I don’t know how I settled on the name Schindler’s Fist, nor do I know why, but what I do know is that for three glorious, oblivious years, I called Schindler’s List something vaguely pornographic in a very casual way.
How about you guys? I can’t be the only one! Share your most horrifying moment in the comments, and leave a link to your blog if you’re feeling gutsy.
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