Embarrassment
How a Speech About Wayne’s World 2 Led to Life Enlightenments
Do you remember the first time you ever had to speak publicly? Do you remember the fear? Do you remember the most awkward moment of your high school experience? That moment in time where you wish the floor could swallow you whole and remove any existence that you were there.
Jolie DownsPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsTaking Out The Trash
I must make a confession, one which I am sure I’m not alone in and others would surely relate... But first, some background information to put this into context.
Lucy JoannaPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsSometimes its best to take the cr*p
I was thirteen years old and had recently began dating my first girlfriend, it was all going rather swimmingly, and I believed like most thirteen years olds that our love was purer than all others and that this, would last forever. Of course, it was not, and it didn’t last but in that window of time I believed that this was IT. As any thirteen-year-old in love you agree to do anything to preserve your relationship so when my girlfriend contacted me early one morning in a frenzy I agreed to help.
Spencer HawkenPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsWhen Revulsion Eclipses Humiliation
Oh no. I had been lying in bed, savoring that precious few moments before the torment of the third-and-final snooze alarm set in. Following the second, I had been unable to return to the land of slumber, thinking about the day’s busy itinerary; in two hours, we would be on our way to sunny Bermuda.
Karin KaltofenPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsNumbers Never Looked Right to Me
I always had a problem with mathematics since I was about four or six years old. I went through one of those quick school IQ tests to see where I excelled and where I needed help. I got help for comprehension because I had some trouble reading and following directions, my teacher said I need specifics or I ended up confused but that didn't last long. The main issue that I had was with numbers, I couldn't process the basics without some assistance and still couldn't count from ten without using my fingers. This was in elementary school, so as grew older I thought the problems would cease but it never did.
BilliePublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsYou Can't Poke Fun at Cancer
I had heard the spiel before, though the miles of paperwork and intricate details of the treatment plan were, admittedly, rather new. Frankly, I had been told all I needed to know. I had Breast Cancer, stage two or three, and it was invasive ductal carcinoma with multiple affected lymph nodes, or something to that effect. At age 33, with a nursing one year old daughter and two other children ages five and three, that was more than enough to process at the time. I had spent the requisite hours in a sobbing puddle of mess and had reconciled with whatever treatment would entail: hair loss, sickness, double mastectomy, scars. Regardless of what else was in store, I had finished processing to the extent I was able. In fact, it had taken some convincing by my first doctor, for me to believe I had anything but some “cheese curds plugging my milk ducts.” It was one of my jokes, that he had most decidedly not laughed at. Honestly, the poor young surgeon looked like he might cry and that was what hit me like a punch in the gut. How serious does breast cancer have to be, for your small town general surgeon to be in tears? That was the beginning of a dizzying spiral into the abyss of panic.
Julie CourtneyPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsThe struggle of fitting in
If there’s one place in the world I hated being it would’ve been middle school. It’s like the hormone breeding ground for pre pubescent teenagers and the awkward right before high school stages. Like in every early coming of age teen movie I’ve seen there are always cliques. You’ve got the popular girls, the jocks, the brainiacs and then there’s me. I was an outcast. Never really fit in anywhere and always the new kid. It sucked. I’d attended a summer camp before the school year had started. That’s when I saw him. A boy shrouded with a group of girls. I’d never thought I’d see him again; oh boy was I wrong. Not only did I see him again but we had classes together. Remember that for later on. His name was Jack. When I saw Jack for the first time it was at Scicon but it was brief and I had an instant crush on him kind of like how you see someone in an airport or on a bus but you never see them again. We had the same PE period and teacher so naturally I ran into him often and I was always flustered. One day for pe we had to play soccer. Back then I really wanted to be on the soccer team so I thought I was a prodigy. We were divided onto teams and started our game. One of his teammates passed him the ball and I ran to get the ball so I could score a goal. I almost had it but we ended up going different directions so I kicked him on the shin directly above the part of the lower leg where his leg and foot connected. After the game was over and before we had to go back to the locker room to change he confronted me about it in front of the whole team. I saw a huge red mark from where I kicked him and I apologized. Embarrassed, I dredged back to the locker room with my head hung low in shame to change my clothes for next period. In my defense the shoes I had on were not running shoes. I sat in my next class replaying what had happened and got embarrassed all over again. After the period was over I met my friend for lunch and told her about it. She was the only friend I had. She was shocked because we all had the same pe period but we were on different teams. She didn’t laugh at me and knew I liked him so she just made sure I was ok. After I told her we had a good laugh about it. The last period of the day was english. This was the only other period where he and I had the same class. It was english and we were sitting at the same group of four desks with two other people. I was still embarrassed about what happened a few hours prior so I couldn’t look up at him. When we finally acknowledged each other and I apologized for kicking him he kind of laughed it off and said it was ok. I had never spoken to him before that encounter. He was actually really nice. We talked about the writing assignment we had to do for class to kind of break the ice. He was surprised to see that I was almost done with my paper in its entirety despite having a blank piece of paper at the start of the period. Writing fiction stories was the only thing I was good at. I remember the whole day in great detail and smiling like an idiot the whole walk home.
KemainiPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsThe Story Of The Free Chocolate Flavoured Condom
. The Story Of The Free Chocolate Flavoured Condom . I was (and still am) A Married Man out drinking, I was about 35 at the time, so 10 year-ish ago.
Ross E Fortune LombardiPublished 3 years ago in ConfessionsSmall Town Girl Meets Big City.
I’m not sure what I was thinking accepting a college co-op location in the big city of Toronto. I knew nothing of city life, growing up in a small community two hours north. It was only a month-long stint for our final credit before graduation, and I chose a cottage magazine publisher that spoke to my rural roots. I wore a pinstriped suit, hair pulled back so neatly I must have resembled a child dressing up in her mother’s closet for a fake fashion show.
Christina HunterPublished 3 years ago in Confessions- Top Story - March 2021
Acting Failure - 1920s Style
Flapper feather headband? Check. Flapper dress? Check. Pearls? Check. “Alright, I think I’m ready to do some acting!”
Fiona Teddy-JimohPublished 3 years ago in Confessions - Top Story - March 2021
Emptying The Tank
I don't often dream, but when I do, I'm either being brutally murdered by a family member or doing something dreadfully mundane like going to the bathroom. Believe it or not, the bathroom dreams are the scariest. Everything else can be discounted as fantasy and fiction, but these, the ones when I envision myself doing things that I regularly do, seem real and visceral. Like the lines between our world and the dream world are temporarily blurred, and I lose the ability to distinguish between the two. These dreams plagued me periodically throughout childhood. There was always this overwhelming sensation of wakefulness.
Laquesha BaileyPublished 3 years ago in Confessions