Ok, so I'm posting this story because when I told it to a certain someone, she immediately burst out laughing, and I was so happy to be able to brighten up her crappy day that it made up for any embarrassment I felt during the retelling. You know who you are--and I hope you enjoy this encore presentation of my high-school humiliation...
So when I was in high school, I ran cross-country to fulfill my after-school sports requirement. I know, I know, it's totally lame, but I was good at it because of all the swimming I did. Look, we've already established that I was SO not a popular kid in high school, you don't have to rub it in, ok?
Anyway, one day I was finishing up a run after school, and I was cooling down by walking along the edge of a soccer field. Well, the goalie on the team was practicing, which meant that another soccer player was slamming soccer balls as hard as he could towards the goal, so the goalie could practice saving the balls. Can you see where I'm going with this? Imagine if life was a bad sitcom. What would happen next? Yep, you got it. I'm walking past the goal at the precise moment when the soccer player gives the ball a vicious kick, the ball goes wide and smacks me on the side of my face. I think I actually went airborne from the impact of the hit.
I'll just wait for you to finish laughing...
Done yet? No?
How bout now? Yes? Good.
Anyway, so I immediately burst into tears. Honestly, it was more out of shock than anything else. God, it was mortifying. There I am, a lowly underclassman, barely 5 feet tall, looking like I belonged in middle school, crying like a baby because I got hit in the face by a soccer ball. So then the assistant coach comes over and patronizingly says, "Hey, sweetheart, you ok?" Ugh. To top it all off, I had to do the walk of shame past the entire soccer team (who of course saw and heard everything) so that I can get all my stuff from the gym. While I'm hurrying past the (super-cute upperclassmen) soccer players, one of the guys calls out, "Hey, you going to be ok, sweetheart?" AGAIN with the sweetheart? Seriously?! Well by this point, I'm so over the whole thing, and I actually turn to him and say, "Screw you!" I KNOW! Who would've thought that little ole' me could actually give attitude? I mean, it was a pretty tame retort, but it was something! So with that momentary burst of strength, I managed to escape somewhat respectfully to the gym.
Oh, who am I kidding? It was mortifying. I blush in humiliation just thinking about it. But hey, I now have two, count 'em TWO, tattoos, so that's gotta count for something, right? I earn back some of my badassness points, right? RIGHT?!
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