Recently I had the pleasure of viewing the scrapbook of a mutual friend that outlined special moments of their family. All these wonderful memories neatly wrapped up in one location, waiting to be relived at any waking moment.
Of course, this was making my zip lock bag scrapbook of sorts, look shabby. Hey, it’s not like I haven’t thought about organizing them beyond the zip lock bag, but I haven’t come up with a good reason to rush that process.
Thinking about all the effort of that scrapbook had me wondering…..everyone looked so happy and perfect as they were enjoying their vacations and milestones. These are the moments that were chosen to be frozen in time, and beautifully displayed on each page of this scrapbook. But…..
What about those other moments? You know the ones that we can’t seem to forget because they are etched in the permanent scrapbook in our heads.
Those special times that you swore if you could die from embarrassment you would, but somehow you survived; leaving you with the added glory of not only remembering, but having all the witnesses remind you for…well….the rest of your LIFE. Yes…those memories.
Well, I have one that would most likely make me an overnight You Tube sensation..ah, the fame and fortune I missed out on by being born in the wrong era…Damit!
It was Summer and I was 19-years old. One weekend at the NJ Shore in a bikini left me burnt to the point of being physically sick. FYI: this is prior to the sun being a lethal weapon and warnings about using baby oil as a tanning agent.
Fast forward 2 weeks into the skin shedding period. A huge crowd of friends had made plans to go to a dance club called Rocky’s…as in Balboa. The 19-year-old me was carefree and some burns and skin shedding wasn’t going to stop me from some fun!
Now, up until this point I still could not wear my own underwear due to the burn. In the 80’s I didn’t have Britney Spears to teach me that “going commando” was acceptable for a woman in a mini dress, so I wore my mother’s underwear.
Victoria Secret wasn’t in our face yet either, so mother’s in the 80’s did not wear sexy underwear, not that their children knew about anyway. They wore respectable age appropriate underwear, that could have been mistaken for an adult onesie on me at the time.
The 19-year-old me put on her underwear/onsie, white mini skirt, pink top and headed to the club. The dance floor was actually a boxing ring that was elevated above the seating. We were drinking, laughing, dancing and having a great time. The DJ played the Sister Sledge hit “We Are Family” which lead my friend Bob to join us on the dance floor. He put his hand around my waist to form a chorus line, for reasons unknown other than the alcohol consumption.
When he did this, he pulled my skirt and it not only came off, it was flying across the room in SLOW MOTION.
I suddenly became the star of an instant replay clip! The laughing faces, my sister’s drink coming out of her mouth and all those pointing fingers. I wasn’t snapped back to reality until the music stopped and I heard … “Will the girl on the dance floor in her ………………underwear?... PLEASE get dressed.” Yea…..no real need for fancy borders and cute sayings to remember this moment.
One thing I learned through this memory is that I really could take a lesson from the 19-year old me. She would tell me “don’t let minor obstacles stop you from doing what you want to do, it will prevent you from creating memories that will last a lifetime.”
Whether your memories are neatly stored onto the pages of a scrapbook, or etched in your head, they are reminders. They are there to teach us lessons, bring us happiness and remind us of how much we’ve grown…not just on the outside, but the inside as well. I’ve come a long way since my public underwear exposure and I survived. Hey, a little embarrassment is good for the soul!
Now it’s time for me to wrangle up some of that carefree attitude of yesteryears, within reason of course, and… Enjoy The Ride!