First, let me introduce you to High School Miranda.
|The days of guard competitions...good times.|
Moving on, my freshman year of high school is the time period in which one of the most embarrassing moments of my life occurred. Of course it would be freshman year, because that first year of high school adjustment and torture isn't bad enough on its own, right?
My 11:00 class was Personal Fitness...a really fancy name for P.E. Just like any other physical fitness class, it normally consisted of dressing out, playing some type of lame sport, or doing mandatory weight lifting. Can I just take a second to ask...who really enjoyed P.E.? I mean, besides the football players and the other athletes of course. Who really gets entertainment out of undressing in a crowd, getting sweaty, putting your regular clothing back on, and then sitting through the remainder of the school day in your own sweat?
I'm getting off topic again. The teacher for this class also happened to be one of the football coaches, so every now and then we would get lucky and have the opportunity to sit in the football stands and socialize instead of actually doing anything P.E. related while he would supervise the painting of the football field, or some other football related duty. These were always the best days, or I guess I should say...they usually were.
On this particular day, we were told to go hang out in the visitor's football stands. So, we began to make the walk over, which involved crossing the football field. The field was surrounded by a chain link fence, and instead of walking all the way to one of the end zones to go through the gates, most of us would just climb over the fence since it wasn't very tall. I'm only 5'4 and the fence barely reached my waist.
My friends and I climb over the first fence obstacle no problem, and then walk across the field to the other fence. They all climb over, and I go to do the same, putting one leg over and straddling the fence while trying to swing my other leg over. I should also go ahead and mention, that this was in the year 2004, which meant that jeans with no back pockets were acceptable. That's what I happened to be wearing that day. (Guilty, as charged.) Therefore, when I was straddling that fence, the top of one of the chain links grabbed onto my pocketless jeans and held on as I attempted to get over the fence.
I heard the rip and felt the draft before both of my feet were even securely on the ground. My hands immediately flew to my backside and I could feel the embarrassment creeping up my neck and into my reddening face. I had ripped half of the butt of my jeans out. I was trying not to panic, my friends were trying not to laugh, and everyone else in the class was not even attempting to hide their giggling. The guy I had a crush on at the time was in that class with me too. That just wasn't okay in the world of a 14-year-old girl.
Want to know what made it even more embarrassing? The underwear I had on. Not only were they "little girl" style underwear (which means I probably had pantie lines in those pocketless jeans...shame on me), but they were, wait for it...SpongeBob Squarepants underwear. That's right...the big, cross-eyed grin of the sponge that lives in a pineapple under the sea was plastered across my rear for all of the world to see. It wasn't one of my finer moments in life. Not in the least.
Luckily, my best friend's mom was off work that day and was able to bring me a pair of my friend's jeans to change into. The ripped jeans sat in my locker for a few months, and I shamefully threw them away when I cleaned all of my stuff out at the end of the year. It was the end of an era.
I never wore pocketless jeans or SpongeBob panties again.