Thank You, Mom and Dad!

When I was a junior in high school, my English class read Pride and Prejudice. We were then asked to write an essay about a time our family had embarrassed us. I truthfully protested to my teacher that my family had never embarrassed me. She, not surprisingly, did not believe me. But it's true. This is largely due to my innate inability to feel embarrassed (and, since God has gifted me with some spectacular personal clumsiness, I am deeply appreciative of this gift).

Don't believe me? At the celebratory dinner for my 13th birthday (arguably the most profoundly awkward year of any girl's life), the waitress came over to our table and asked me to stand so she could sing some kind of opera aria to me in honor of the occasion. I duly stood, and as I rose, the entire restaurant was treated to the sight of my unbuttoned shorts and the sound of my loudly clanking unbuckled belt. Did I blush? You betcha. Did I feel perfectly justified in having loosened my 90's era tight waistband so I could fully enjoy a rare Italian feast? You betta' believe it. Did I laugh and button up my shorts while still standing and enjoying the slightly chuckle-ruffled aria? Yep.

So you can see it would take a truly embarrassing family to top that kind of everyday faux pas. I'm pretty sure that we, as a family, embarrassed my older, far more decorous sister with greater frequency. I know we showed up, all four dressed identically, at her summer camp one year and she nearly disowned us on the spot. But I was young and clueless and thought matching outfits were just a nifty way to find one another in a crowd.

Anyway. The fact remains that I survived a childhood in the 80's and 90's without any glaringly embarrassing family moments. I had terrible haircuts, pretty much exclusively. I wore some outrageously hideous outfits, including a denim and lace dress that still haunts my dreams. And I came within an inch of appearing on (and winning, in my opinion) America's Funniest Home Videos. (Clearly a story for another time).

But, to the best of my recollection, my parents never sent out a photo Christmas card or made us go to one of those portrait studios to get family pictures taken. I suspect this is largely due to the fact that my mother hates having her picture taken (though she is unerringly photogenic) and my father always insisted on manning the camera himself (with perhaps more enthusiasm than skill). Whatever the reasons, I am tremendously grateful. Because the fact remains that, thanks to the restraint of my mother and father, all those years of bowl-cuts and neon puffy painted sweat suits will never land me on this hilarious and horrifying website.

So, from the bottom of my hard-to-embarrass heart, thank you!!