In second grade, I was running on the grass after a rain storm (brilliant) and (surprise surprise) slipped and fell in the mud. This wouldn't have been so bad, but it was in front of my entire class and I had to walk around covered in mud the rest of the day. Horrifying. (Please note the picture above is not actually me falling - thankfully there is no photographic proof. I just liked how the look on her face was exactly how I felt).In fourth grade, my favorite thing in the entire world was my school's monthly roller skating night at the local roller rink. Was there anything better than skating around and around in a circle in smelly, borrowed shoes? I think not. On one of these nights, they called out for a "Couple's Skate" and I bravely walked up to a boy and asked him to skate. His response? "With who?" (insert Pac-man dying sounds here).Finally, and perhaps the most horrifying, was the time I was, once again, at a skating rink and thought I started my, um, you know. I was wigging. My mom wasn't there; I was wearing a mini-skirt; I didn't know what to do. Well, you see the problems here. Genius that I was, I put toiletpaper in my undies thinking I was super smart and solved the issue (which I'm fairly certain then fell out as I skated around the rink - classy). The only problem was that I hadn't actually started anything - I'd sat in a cherry slurpee. How does one mix that up with having your first, um, you know? (Why can't I say that out loud? I'm not a child).
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