Happy (belated) New Year everyone! Now is the time of year for flimsy resolutions and half-arsed promises to yourself and in the spirit of this I’ve come up with a bit of an idea.
Winter is com… no, behave!
‘Things I wish I’d never done.’
Ok, I know the surprise was given away in the title, but here’s my thinking. Once again I’m being thwarted by my greatest nemesis – my scumbag brain. Quite often, apparently for no reason other than to torment me, scumbag brain decides to randomly bring up moments from my past. These can be embarrassing, guilt ridden or just plain stupid situations that if I had the choice I would never think of again. However, scumbag brain apparently thinks it’s hilarious fun to play these moments over and over and over and over AND OVER again from every conceivable angle right up until I’m seriously tempted to silence scumbag brain with a hammer. The thing is, most of these moments are the most tiny, insignificant occurrences, some of which happened way over a decade ago, but scumbag brain just doesn’t want to let go!
So here is my idea. Maybe by writing about these moments and sharing on my blog, I can finally take away scumbag brain’s ammunition and get them out of my head. Ideally some of you will respond with similar scenarios that happened to you and then I’ll feel like less like a weirdo. No pressure guys, but you know what they say, ‘sharing is caring’ 😉
I’ve written down all of the instances I can think of (though I’m sure scumbag brain will come up with a few more later) onto small pieces of paper. I’ve mixed these all in a hat, which appropriately looks like a knitted rabbit version of grumpy cat, and I will draw them out on a regular basis, maybe once a week. Depending on how much I have to write about each of the situations I’ll either draw one or two at a time. And you can all have a good time laughing or sympathising with me while I hopefully help myself let go of these memories.
ok, so here it goes. Draw number one is…
Gone ‘commando’ under my dress to friend’s party
I’d like to point out that this is NOT, I repeat NOT, something I do on a regular basis. In fact, this memory is why this was the first and only time I ever went out pantless in a dress in public.
The story goes something like this.
I was about 14. I’d very recently gone on a shopping trip with my mum when I happened to fall in love with the most beautiful bright red halter-neck dress. It was a little bit 50’s style with a gorgeous shirt collar type neckline, a matching broad waistline belt and an A-line skirt. I always take forever when trying on clothes in dressing rooms so I just slipped it on over my jeans to save time. I didn’t really wear many dresses when I was younger because I was very self-conscious but this dress was just the right amount of feminine and fitted my body perfectly. Plus, it was just so purdy!! I was so thrilled when my mum bought it for me and resolved to wear it to my friend’s party the following week.
So the night of the party came and I excitedly slipped on my dress. I was admiring myself in the mirror when I noticed my very obvious and very massive panty line. I have never ever in my life ever worn a thong, having always picked the comfort of massive granny pant briefs over style.
No matter how much I tucked and tugged, wiggled and jiggled, there was no hiding the humungous trenches caused by my giant knickers. I went to mum for help. She looked at me and asked what it looked like without pants. So I took my pants off and sure enough, the trenches smoothed out and I once again could pass for nearing elegant. Mum reassured me that it looked miles better and no one would ever know my cheeky secret.
Yes that’s right, my mum actively promoted me to leave the house pantless.
I turned up at the party feeling like Julia Roberts in her red dress in Pretty Woman and received many lovely compliments about my outfit.
I was so unused to people giving me compliments for my looks and I was thrilled to be receiving such attention. Even though to begin with I was painfully aware of my secret, as the evening wore I enjoyed myself so much that I completely forgot about my naked bottom.
After stuffing our faces with food we decided to get up and dance to the music. I was having a blast! I was so happy that I’d worn my dress and enjoyed swishing my skirt about as I boogied. Little did I know that apparently the swishing of my skirt was so tantalising and entrancing it could impulse my friends to do crazy things.
Before I knew what was happening, my friends had grabbed the bottom of my dress and flipped it up over the top of my head. And I’m not talking about the back of my dress so everyone could see my bum, I’m talking about the front. About my *ahem* lady area. I quickly yanked my dress back down, laughing nervously and trying to pretend nothing was out of the ordinary. My friends were understandably shocked, did they really just see what they thought they saw? Apparently the uncertainty and curiosity was too great as moments later I once again found my dress flipped up over my face so my friends could get a better look. So that was TWICE now, TWICE in about five minutes that I had had my lady area exposed to the world. Once again I yanked it back down as quick as I could, but this time I could tell by the cheeky grins on their faces that they had seen the truth. My secret was out and I was mortified. Now I really did feel like a movie star, but not like Julia Roberts, more like Marilyn Monroe in The Seven Year Itch, only a million times less sexy.
I tried to carry on like I wasn’t bothered but I was horrified. I’m extremely self-conscious about my body and I couldn’t believe I’d just flashed my lady area to my friends twice in one night!
I never wore that dress again. But I did wear underwear from then on.
Moral of the story: If your mum ever tells you no one will ever know you’re not wearing any pants, she’s a filthy, filthy liar!!
Time for another draw! And draw number two is…
‘Trusted sister no.3 – Bike’
I think you can guess from the title of this one that my sister comes up more than a few times in this list.
Like many people in life, I have a lovely older sister who I adored and followed around like a puppy as a child. I thought she was the coolest, most wise person I’d ever known and I trusted everything she said implicitly.
One day when I was about six, my Aunty was baby-sitting us and decided to treat us to some fresh air at the park. We hopped on our bikes and peddled on our way. I was still on stabilisers at this point and so we had to take our time getting to the park.
Once we got there, our long suffering Aunty decided that she needed a rest and so set herself down on a bench to observe us at play. The park was situated at the base of two hills, with a path running to it down from the entrance at the top of one of the hills. My sister, who was three years older and so had a big girl’s bike, discovered that it was a lot of fun to cycle as fast as you could down the first hill, gathering as much speed for your bike as possible to propel you unaided up the second hill.
I watched her do this a few times and it did indeed seem like a lot of fun. With big innocent eyes, I examined her every move with wonder and awe.
After a bit, my sister stopped at the top of the second hill and shouted over to me,
‘You should do it Natalie, it’s so much fun!!’
I looked down the slope of the hill. It really was quite steep and I wasn’t sure. She must have seen me hesitate and so shouted over again,
‘Go on do it! It’s great!’
She sounded so confident that I believed without a doubt that this was going to be the best experience of my young life. I jumped on my bike and pushed off.
It was incredible! The wind rushing through my hair, the feeling of gathering speed while all the time my little legs peddled manically, pushing me faster and faster.
Then it happened.
My pathetic rickety stabilisers couldn’t take any more and gave out. My bike hurtled out of control, swerving left and right until finally SMASH!
I ended up head first in a bin, my little legs thrashing about in the air.
My Aunty came sprinting down the hill to rescue me while my sister cackled hysterically above. When I was finally pulled from the bin it turned out that I’d received a massive cut down my face. We had been at the park for about 10 minutes total and my sister had already managed to maim me.
Since then I’ve never really trusted bikes.
Moral of the story: Sometimes you need a big girl’s bike to get a job done properly.