Confessions logo

My Embarrasing, Accidental Church Striptease

This moment doesn't even crack my top five mortifying moments

By Sarah ParisPublished 2 years ago 4 min read
1
My Embarrasing, Accidental Church Striptease
Photo by Jamie Haughton on Unsplash

I shivered in my skivvies as the crowd pointed and laughed. I embraced the laughter but stood paralyzed in my mortification.

How did I find myself, soaking wet and naked from the waist down in front of a church crowd, you ask? Did I traumatize scores of little kids and grandmas? It’s a long story. And, yes — most likely. Here’s my tale of woe.

Thunder roared through a heavy sky. I sped down winding country lanes, panicked we wouldn’t arrive on time. My friend, Grace and I were running late to church, and she barked our countdown time from the passenger’s seat.

“Five minutes. Dude, we’re still a few miles away!” She screamed.

“Yeah, I still don't have the supernatural ‘stop time’ power. I’m going as fast as I can."

It was the July after college graduation. My college roommates and I had decided to share one last carefree summer together. We’d played all summer. Each of us worked part-time and in vain, clinging to the last vestiges of young adulthood.

My friends were all three weeks away from heading out for various graduate schools. I was leaving to spend a year in Amsterdam. Our worry-free summer was spent embarking on adventures, playing at the beach, and sleeping in until noon. We talked about church, but so far, had bailed every week.

Grace and I were the only ones going. We were both lazy on Sunday morning, but we’d committed. The church was thirteen miles away from our summer house, and the last service began at eleven a.m. We didn’t walk out the door until 10:45 a.m.

The sky wept as I pulled into the crowded parking lot at 10:59. We laughed about our mature, adult-like behavior and found a parking spot in another state. I realized the distance from the parking space to the church was easily a thousand miles.

The rain was blinding and we didn’t have an umbrella between us.

“Let’s just blow it off this week,” I suggested.

But I knew we couldn’t. We’d dressed up for spiritual reasons, after all. We gathered our things, made makeshift head coverings out of our jackets, and sprinted from the car.

In one hand, I clutched both my jacket and my ginormous keychain. My Bible and purse were death gripped in the other hand. Grace only carried her jacket. At least seventeen feet of rain had fallen in the time it took me to park. Grace and I mustered our courage and ran at the same time.

We were about ten feet away from the swarm of faithful and responsible, umbrella-owning congregants who were reaching the church’s front door. We swam to join the crowd. My soaked clothes weighed an extra hundred pounds and stuck to my body. But I beamed with faith and love as I faced possible drowning death.

Our tears of laughter mixed with the rain, and I could barely see. Suddenly, I noticed that my wrap-around skirt felt a bit loose. And then, Grace shrieked with a burst of new, menacing laughter. She was pointing at me and covering her mouth. A cool breeze roared up my backside before I realized what had happened.

My hipster, wrap-around, pencil skirt was down around my ankles. My bright pink bikini briefs were on display for all worshippers. And we were still thirty people back from entering the church foyer.

“Ah!” I exclaimed. “Holy crap! Grace! Help me!”

Grace replied as only close friends can. “No way!” she said, between bursts of giggles. She turned to the family behind me, “Avert your eyes! No one should have to see this!”

I had nowhere to put my belongings and struggled to pull up my skirt.

“Please help, Grace,” I pleaded.

“Uh-huh. I need to savor this moment.”

I wondered if she was possessed.

***

“What is wrong with that girl?”

By now, most of the people surrounding us noticed my striptease. A nervous dad laughed. A grandmother told me I should feel ashamed of myself. And a mother with her two young sons put her hands over their eyes. Finally, Grace took my stuff and allowed me to pull up my sopping, dirty skirt.

“We’re sitting through the service, friend.”

She smiled so wide, I feared her face would crack.

I narrowed my eyes and shot lasers at her. We walked into the back of the crowded service and those in the rows ahead of us turned and stared.

I heard two women behind us whisper to each other.

“What is wrong with that girl?”

I prayed for a dark cave to crawl into, but prayers aren't always answered in the ways we desire. The judgment of strangers sent waves of heat through my otherwise shivering body.

“You can stay,” I told Grace. “But I’m going.”

We snuck out and trudged back to the car.

“I can’t wait to tell everyone,” my compassionate friend said. When my mortification wore off, I only regretted that I hadn’t shouted, “You’re welcome!” on my way out of the service.

***

A few years later, Grace introduced me to her fiance. “Oh, Sarah! The skirtless wonder. I’ve heard all about you,” he laughed and clapped my back.

“Neat,” I responded. To this day, I still have a hard time making eye contact with him.

Again, my church striptease barely cracks my top five embarrassing moments. So, whenever you endure public humiliation, I hope you’ll recall my pink bikini briefs. And I hope you’ll realize that you’re not alone.

An earlier version of this story appeared here on Medium.com

Embarrassment
1

About the Creator

Sarah Paris

Storytelling. Fiction is my heartbeat, but I write in multiple genres.

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.