That One Time When I Tried to Skirt the Problem

Some of the best memories that should be recorded are, of course, the really embarrassing ones. There are many different types of embarrassing. There's embarrassing like the time when I came home from a date and saw that I had food in my teeth-- embarrassing, but not really detrimental because that relationship was going nowhere anyway. Then there are embarrassing moments that are embarrassing because of the time of your life that you were in. Like when I was changing into my parakeet costume (bright yellow sweatpants and matching sweatshirt with a paper beak which I can't seem to find any pictures of anywhere) for the school play when I was in second grade and accidentally went into the boy's bathroom instead of the girl's bathroom. I thought I was going to pass out or throw up or both even though no one even saw me. Now I would have laughed and walked out, but at the time, I thought my life was over. Then are things that aren't embarrassing at the time, but then looking back you're like, "Oh my gosh, did I really write 'Hey Hot Stuff" when signing the year book of one of the popular guys in 6th grade that I really didn't even know but wished I did" ... I mean... I didn't do that...

Anyway, I feel like I have a lot of examples all of these scenarios in my life and believe that if these stories will help to brighten someone's day, then they are worth sharing.

That One Time When I Tried to Skirt the Problem
When I worked at the state health department in Salt Lake City after I graduated from BYU (first real job, yeah!), I took the train most days from Provo for several reasons:

1. To avoid the traffic on 1-15 which is always backed up mostly for no reason at all or for rubbernecking, and I can't decide which is worse
2. To give me more time to finish doing my make up, eat my breakfast, or sleep since I couldn't seem to find the time to do any of those adequately
3. To give Matt the car because at the time we only had one vehicle and we couldn't afford to keep buying him new pants because his biking leg muscles weren't fitting into his jeans anymore

The train station is just a few blocks from our apartment, so naturally, I only gave myself two minutes to spare just about every day which more often than not resulted in me jumping out of the car while Matt was still driving (slowly, safety first) and running for my life to jump on the train just as the whistle blew and the doors locked.

On one of these days, Matt and I jumped into the car and took off to the train station. I was wearing a black, knee-length, flowy skirt made of stretchy material that was slightly big for me (because I had lost quite a bit of weight when I got married but refused to get rid of any clothes), with flats, and a pink sweater.

As the train station got closer, I could see people starting to run from the parking lot to the train. Panic mode. I looked at the clock; we had one minute. Matt pulled up along the curb, and I jumped out and took off at full speed. At this point I was one of the only people left on the platform heading toward the train. I was concentrating so hard on my speed and trying to catch the conductors eye to plead with him for just a few more seconds, that I didn't realize that I was tripping over something. I tried to maneuver around it by taking a wider step, but my legs were constricted. As I looked down and saw a big black blob around my feet, I was so confused. Then it hit me: THAT IS MY SKIRT! With my Tupperware of oatmeal in one hand, and my purse and laptop in the other, I tried the best that I could to gather up my skirt in a wad around my hips and run with it like that to the train steps. I refused to make eye contact with anyone as I walked down the isle to the first open seat, which of course was halfway down the car.

When I finally sat down, I couldn't hold it in any longer and I started cracking up as I fixed my skirt back it's professionally appropriate length and sent Matt a text telling him he won't ever want to be seen with me at the train station again.

And the moral of the story is: 1. Go through your closet and get rid of the clothes that are too big for you. 2. Always leave one hand free to catch your falling clothes in case you decide to skip #1.