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When an embarrassing family story gets retold again and again

By Meg Sanders, Standard-Examiner Contributor - | Dec 18, 2014
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There are moments in your life where you wish people would either forget they ever happened or pray they never share that moment with others. I’m not so lucky.

I can’t blame those that share my most embarrassing moment because here I sit in my basement office tapping away on my keyboard in complete solace, ready to share a few details of that fateful day. I’m not sure if its retelling comes from me not really caring, or that the story is just so horrendous a person can’t help but spread the details.

First, I want you to understand just how often this story falls at my feet at the most inopportune times. Last week I went to visit a childhood friend I haven’t seen in nearly six years. She along with all her siblings were staying in Eagle Mountain visiting family for Thanksgiving. Her older brother walked in, and as if by reflex he began to shake his leg and utter one phrase I HATE more than any other, “Shake-a, shake-a.” The story then got retold…again.

Being the nice daughter I am, I scheduled my mother’s Christmas hair appointment with my stylist Carolynn Judd at Salon Bella (seriously, she’s the best). When I called Mom to see how it went she told me how it was a Northridge High School reunion with Carolynn’s husband there, along with other stylists and spouses. After a pause she said,” I feel like I should tell you something. I told them the shake-a story.” The story got retold…again.

So just weeks apart this moment where I totally, utterly, embarrassed my eight-year-old self we retold to strangers. My humiliation had now become some type of chain letter.

When I started dating Brian my junior year of high school he came to pick me up at my house for a dance. As I saw him pull up the driveway I dashed downstairs, through the door, and met him at the car in second. I would have left straight for the dance, but sadly we first were eating dinner served by my vengeful older sisters.

They’re about 10 years older than I, so as they paraded their dates through our the front room to meet our parents over the years, I made sure to thoroughly embarrass the hell out of them. I farted in dates’ faces, pulled out a tooth for one guy, and performed my most embarrassing moment for another. Fast forward eight years to the moment I was going to parade Brian through our front room to meet our parents and my sisters were salivating for an opportunity for me to reap what I sowed. I can still see my sister Liz’s eyes shining through the front door window waiting to pounce.

I stopped teenage Brian on the porch. I told him my sisters’ plan, and then went on to tell him the moment shake-a became a family anthem, thus taking power away from my sisters. Basically, I’m doing that same thing for you all, although the front porch has been replaced with the newspaper. Brian still shakes his leg at me from time to time. I hate him for it.

Here it goes: When I was about seven years old my sister brought over her boyfriend to play a family board game, Hero’s Quest. It’s an intense game, so in my defense there’s not a lot of time to take breaks. On top of this, why was I seated next to my sister’s boyfriend? I thought I’d proved I wasn’t’ fit for company, let alone being seated just inches away. As we played I knew I needed to use the bathroom, but I held it in…or so I thought. When the game ended I stood up, and a small piece of poo rolled out the bottom of my pants smooshing onto the game board, directly in front of our guest. Thus began my life-long humiliation.

To cap it all off, last year my sister planned a family pub crawl through Salt Lake City with friends we’ve kept over the years. As I sat down at our reserved table, across from me was the very boyfriend (now a well-respected doctor) I had thoroughly embarrassed myself in front of as a kid. My sister then retold the story…again.

That boyfriend has since become my dermatologist, an amazing one at that. Yes, each time I sit down in the patient chair the story gets retold…again.

Now I say to my family and friends who know this story there’s no point in telling it EVER AGAIN because I’ve just shared it with the world. Can we please come up with a new most embarrassing story?

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