When you are living in a small town, it's a bit like being a celebrity because no matter where you go you're going to see SOMEONE who knows you. If you are having a bad hair day, I guarantee that someone is going to be the guy you're crushing on.
The smaller the town, the greater the odds that if you do something stupid the absolutely last people on Earth you want to know about it are going to have front row seats to your shame.
Now this is highly amusing when YOU are watching THEM screw up. Not so great in reverse.
I went with my sister to my nephew's baseball practice years ago. I think I was 7th grade. You know, the start of trying to at least appear cool 24/7.
I always had a crush on someone at that age. Heck, I had a crush on someone or other until I met my husband and he told me that kinda thing had to stop. Go figure.
ANYHOW, at that time I was convinced I was in love with Barney (I changed his name because no way in hell do I want him stumbling across this blog and figuring out what happened that day!)
So when Barnes showed up at the ball field, I about blew a gasket. You know how you stare someone down, but act like you're completely unaware of their presence? So stalkerish, I know, but we've all done it....right? I'm not the only one??
I couldn't tell if he knew I was there and was ignoring me because I was uncool (and I was sooo not cool in school) or if maybe he hadn't seen me yet. I also couldn't have told you which I preferred. I wanted him to talk to me, of course, but I was also scared to death that he would. (The Libra in me...so indecisive)
So, I'd been sitting several feet away from my sister (the cool buffer zone dontcha know) but wanted to tell her something. Now, I could have just said it, but I didn't want to call attention to myself, so I slid across the bleachers to whisper it to her.
And then I let out a yelp. LOUD.
My sister thought it was funny.
So, still concerned about my image, I said I would go to the car (oh-so-casually, thank you) and she was to count to like 20 or something and come to the car to take the thing OUT...if she could. You know sometimes they're kinda small or they break off.
So there I am, lying face down in the backseat of the the Chrysler (big ol' boat) with my flip flops hanging out the back door, flipping and flopping nervously. My sister comes a minute later, as instructed, lifts the hem of my shorts and gasped.
This sucker was FOUR INCHES long and about a quarter inch wide. More of a dagger than a splinter.
That was the last time I EVER slid on wooden bleachers. I'm not sure how much Barney witnessed, but if he saw my feet hanging out the back door and my sister leaning in over me a few minutes later, he had to think I was completely off my rocker....or that my family was a little too close for comfort!
You know, maybe this is why I'm not a baseball fan? Of course this story probably has a lot to do with it too.