SUPER-Embarrassing Moment #1: Fruit Punch Anyone?

So my therapist and I were on the phone the other day (both of us shirtless and eating cake), and we were brainstorming new and creative ways to “flush out the crazy”.  He suggested a useful little trick: to browse through my thoughts, and extract my most embarrassing moments. 

It’s almost like a ”trust exercise”, between myself and…myself?

And that brings me to a brand new 5-part series:  My SUPER-Embarrassing Moments. 

Today I’ll begin with Moment #1 (note: “#1″ is not a ranking, this is simply one of the worst…..)

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I was 9 years old. 

A clever and plucky young girl, I was a few short years from womanhood.  Indeed, it was the “Spring” of my life, and appropriately enough, this story unfolds at the cusp of a Canadian Spring…

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It was my favourite day of the school year: FIELD TRIP!

Destination=”Maple-Syrup Forest”

Objective=”Learn about the production of Canada’s SWEETEST nectar” (no not Celine Dion)

…As I left my house that morning, I put on a big pair of rubber boots, as it was rainy and muddy outside.

When we arrived at the forest, I began my “foresty” stroll, trailing away from the class now and then, examining buckets of sap; it was cool.

After three long hours of ”sap observations”, it was time for a giant lunch. I was feeling extremely parched, so I had 6 glasses of punch with my meal. I was smart enough to hit up the bathroom “post-meal”, but come on…6 glasses of punch right? Right…

As the afternoon wore on, I was all wrapped up in the “syrup-production-process”.  In other words, the cries of my bladder went completely unnoticed.

And later, when the teachers made “last call” for the bathroom (i.e. last opportunity to take a piss/take a dump/jerk off (if you were old enough)), again I was distracted (so busy I was eating wads of “maple candy” that we had gotten at the “Maple Syrup Gift Shoppe”…if you think that I’m joking, you are SO wrong).

So I made my way to my friend, and we strolled on over to her mother’s car (and yes, though I called her “friend”, I’m pretty sure that she called me “hovering/needy/weird kid”, but anyway, details, details..).  I was glad that her mom had been assigned to “car-pool” instead of mine, since my mommy-dearest would’ve likely scared the children (what with her harsh broken English, and Indian-snake-charming powers…let’s just say she’s an acquired taste, okay?).

So I took my seat in the back, and settled right in for a cozy ride home; Enough syrup-talk for one day, I thought, time to go home.

About 10 minutes into the drive, I felt the urge…

It was time,

to take,

A PISS.

And not just an “evening dribble” mind you, oh no, I’m talking about a massive pee-surge, of Niagara-Falls-like proportions.

Hmm…too bad I was sitting in a car, RIGHT?  No toilet or bucket or metal bowl or plastic bag in sight; what to do?

I was feeling extremely nervous, so I decided to look out the window.  As far as I could see, not a rest-stop in sight, just one Maple tree after another.  There was no way in hell I was about to take a piss behind a tree, all savage-like and whatnot (I pride myself on being prim and proper), so I decided to go with plan: “shut the hell up”, a.k.a…HOLD IT IN.

This master plan fell apart within…5 minutes.

A.K.A…..YO, I totally pissed my pants!!!

The worst part was, I wasn’t just standing in a corner, inflicting pissy harm on no one but myself (which I often do and am totally fine with).  Instead, I was sitting down awkwardly, in somebody’s clean upholstered car!! And GET THIS: the upholstery was light gray, so obviously my dark pissy-puddle would show up on the seat.

Now listen, I was pretty new to swearing at the tender age of 9 (as opposed to now…fuckers), but this was one of those times where the girly little voice inside my head screamed out: “FUUCCCKKK!”

Yeah.

Since there was nothing I could do to stop the steady stream, I just let all the pee slowly trickle down my thighs, as it darkened my jeans and landed in a puddle, secured by my impenetrable rubber boots.

When we finally arrived back at school, my heart was beating lightning-fast.  I thought to myself: is there any way to escape the car, WITHOUT my friend’s mom checking out the nasty puddle? (’cause honestly, I didn’t care about sloshing around in my piss-filled boots; all I wanted was a swift escape!)

As luck (or bad luck) would have it, her mom actually opened the car door to let me out.  I removed myself from the car as gingerly as possible (hoping to minimize the “sloshing” sound of all the piss in my boots).  I managed to get out, but suddenly I saw her expression change…she had spotted it: the dark circle of piss, clouding an otherwise gleaming back-seat.

My friend’s bewildered mom didn’t even say a word.  She simply stared at me, in an almost “I feel sorry for this mal-adjusted homeless child” kinda way.

This stare-down lasted only seconds, but it was one of the most mortifying “time stands still” experiences of my life.

ANY-HOO,  it was the end of the day, which meant I didn’t even have to go back to class.  So I turned on my heel, thanked my friend’s mom for the ride, and slowly but surely walked my ass home, one sloshy step at a time.

And that’s why you should never EVER drink more fruit punch than you can handle…or something…shudder.