Your Face is Redder than Your Hair

Day ten. Embarrassment. Why the hell would I want to share this? I want you all to think I’m this perfect person who is great at everything! Well, not really. I don’t care what most people think of me. They can suck a toad for all I care if they don’t like me.

We’ve all had that one moment where something happens and you know it’ll scar you for life. I might have had one of those, but I don’t remember. I try to suppress all those nasty, negative thoughts away and never bring them back to the surface. But there is one I will share with you. You’re all greedy little buggers anyway. (much love intended, btw)

In choir, we had to stand one these risers. The risers made everything look more professional I suppose, but why put the 5’10 ginger on the top? I suspect I was the tallest girl on that row. Whatever. Our choir outfits were these black dresses that didn’t let air through, weighed twenty pounds, and you couldn’t raise your arms to protect your face from when you faceplant on the risers. That’s right. I tripped. I stepped right on the front of my dress and tried to make out with the second row riser. Not to mention, the auditorium was FULL of parents and friends. Ugh. Oh! And someone took a picture and all you could see was me standing there and from the neck up it was nothing but bright fucking red. It’s true. My face can get as red as my hair.

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