My friend Karen called today to ask about something she is working on for her Sunday School lesson. It involves people in class sharing their embarrassing moments, apparently. Since I will be teaching in Primary and won't be there, I offered to let her use one of my embarrassing moments without me (I've got plenty to share). She declined but the exchange got me thinking that relating my best, most super-embarrassing moment would make for a good blog post. Unfortunately, I don't have time to tell it today, but I thought I might tell you other, shorter embarrassing things to pass the time. In particular, two fears I am not proud of:
My irrational fear: Moldy food. I am virtually paralyzed by the implied presence of mold on foods in my fridge. I say implied because I would never knowingly open a container of food that had gone bad. That would be too scary. No. I look at the jar/container from the outside to see if there is anything funky going on. And if something has been languishing in the back of the fridge for a great amount of time, I don't even waste time wondering and I just throw the thing out. Sour cream can be the worst. I am always careful to hold it (unopened) up to the light, peering intently at the semi-opaque Daisy container, wondering if there might be little tufts of green lurking under the lid. Sometimes there are, and it absolutely ruins my day. I'm not kidding. I'll pick up a snake and wear it around my neck, but mold scares the bejeepers out of me.
My rational fear: That I will make an idiot out of myself in public, in particular that someone won't remember me but that I will remember them. This happens to me every so often and it really messes with my already-taxed self confidence. I am always assuming that people I recognize from the gym or some class or ward I attended a few years back will not remember who I am. I try and tell myself "Julie. You haven't changed your hair--color and style--since approximately the seventh grade. You look exactly like you always have. People will know who you are." And I admit to myself, that does sound reasonable. So every now and then I (unfortunately) pluck up the courage to go way out of my comfort zone and make a point of reconnecting with someone. And about half the time, this is what I end up with (as illustrated by this exchange between me and David Dooley in the hallway of the RB, in Fall of 1994):
I am walking along and I notice David Dooley walking towards me. David was in my ward growing up and we were in the same Primary classes for years. Having long ago abandoned the rather tepid crush I had on him, (I think I stopped caring for him the moment I put my first name with his last name) and even though it had been years since we had seen each other, I figured since I recognized him, he would most likely recognize me......or not.
Me: (something along the lines of) Hey David Dooley--I haven't seen you since I lived in Clovis!
David: (confused, pausing as he stares into my face and tentatively says) Hi. Uhh...
Me: (still friendly) I'm Julie Pedersen. Well, I used to be. I got married last year.....
David: (like I'm speaking with a thick accent he can't quite make out) Julie Pedersen?.....
Me: (trying to stay casual but starting to wish the fire alarm would start trilling, or maybe a crack in the Earth's surface would appear and swallow me up whole) Yes. We were in Clovis Second ward together growing up...my dad always MC'd ward activities.....I was best friends with Kelly Ryan......(I figured the light bulb would go on here. All the boys liked Kelly--David in particular--and Kelly and I were inseparable for two years. But no. I am starting to realize, too late of course, two things. Thing 1: David is a dolt. Thing 2: David is also a jerk, because anyone with an ounce of social grace would have gone along with me just to prevent an awkward exchange such as this.)
Eventually I stopped trying to convince this boy that he really did know who I was. We each walked away and I promised myself that I would never again assume that people recognize me. (So that is why, old friend, I never stop you in the mall or the hall at church and try to reconnect. Because of David Dooley.)
So those are my top two irrational/rational fears. What about you? Give me the goods in the comment section.
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6 comments:
Okay, my rational fear: Public Restrooms
My Irrational Fear: Public Restrooms
See, I'm not scared of the potential yuckiness, although that certainly doesn't help. I'm scared of being alone in one, particularly if it has a droning fan running overhead, a drain in my stall, or stainless steel toilet bowls. If there's someone else (a stranger, or even a baby) inside with me I'm fine. Otherwise I'd rather have an accident than go in by myself.
I know, weird. Quinn or Dr. Phil could have a heyday with me.
Irrational Fear:
I'm not as bad as I used to be on this one, but I get a degree of anxiety going over bridges at night. George Washington Bridge in NYC in particular. There's also a double decker in Philadelphia that caused me stress.
Rational Fear:
Just found this one out yesterday....Christina's walking buddy showed up at our house after school alone. He said that Christina went back to the school for something and then he saw her run around the school and two girls were following her. I threw my kids in the car and as I drove to the school I knew that if anyone hurt my child I'd have a very, very hard time dealing with that. I'm not dwelling on this fear b/c it would drive me batty and I'm counting on there being a very slim chance of this happening.
Hey, I think I remember David Dooley! Is he the guy that played water polo? I met him through Kelly...him and another blond guy who played water polo...but I can't conjure up his name right now...although I think Kelly rode home with him for Christmas our first year.
And, hey, here's another thought. If you are Kelly's age, and hence, my age...where the heck were you our freshman year at BYU??
So you know David Dooley? Would you be willing to participate with me in an elaborate sting operation wherein you pretend like you don't remember him and make him feel bad? Because I'm thinking that is all it will take for me to get over the hurt and the shame and finally have "closure".
Me? Kelly's age? I WISH. We are six months and 4 days apart--me being older than her--so thanks for bringing it up. I spent my first two years of "eligibility" at Moorpark Jr. College (motto: Remember, Moorpark spelled backwards is "Kraproom") so I didn't make it to BYU until Fall 1991. I think you were good and married by then. But, I did used to run past those Moon-whatever apartments you guys lived in, when I was into running on the river trail. Man, I miss that trail.
It certainly grateful you were at Moorpark with me or that year before my mission would have been far less enjoyable.
And Becca, don't forget your irrational fear of driving on steep hills during the daytime. Good thing you were driving that day in San Francisco. . .
Heya TRAMP!
Oh I love that you love that book!! Such impeccable taste. I'll definitely check out Zippy. So my irrational fear is every time I open my trunk. I keep thinking one of these times there's going to be a body in there THAT I DID NOT KILL and that I'll have to deal with it somehow. Like how they do in movies. Freaking out and acting guilty and then running and dumping the body somewhere. Yeah like that. So I get this little heart blip every time I open my trunk. (This would be a good time to reference the trash yet FABULOUS 90s flick "Mystery Date" starring a very young Ethan Hawke in his prime, till we all noticed, hey you're kinda snaggle toothed/emaciated and frankly not all that cute, buppo)
I have a VERY real fear of not blowing things or making an idiot out of myself in public. So I was FREAKING out walking at my high school and college graduations (DON'T MESS UP DON'T MESS UP), and my wedding, which I messed up. It was the part where I JUMPED THE GUN in the ceremony and said yes too early. Duh-ork. Ah, something to treasure forever.
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