From the Diary of Marie Claire Munson:
Ever felt so embarrassed that you wanted to disappear, melt into a pile of nothing, be taken away in the Rapture suddenly, ect.? That’s how I often feel, and it sure isn’t fun. Therefore, I, Marie C. Munson, have resolved to, in the year 2010, stop being so clumsy in my actions. It’s easier said than done.
Shall I give you an example? Take this Sunday, for instance. During the church service, there’s a designated time for the congregation to get up and greet each other. I was, of course, always the sociable one, so I shook the hands of those around me, even the hand of my little brother.
A man in front of me and his family hadn’t greeted my family that I had seen yet, so when he reached his hand out, my first impulse was to extend my hand, which I did. What I didn’t know was that he was shaking the hand of the elderly man behind me. So when I did that, I extended over my little brother, ended up tripping over my new boots, and barely managed to avoid toppling over Nick.
The man asked if I was okay, and I nodded, doing my best not to scream at myself.
Nick just had to jump in and say, “Sorry sir, but that’s typical Marie.”
It’s the boots, I tell you! They made me socially awkward!
Their demise? I gave them to Tidbit, and the rest is history.
Then there’s the time, in school, where I was partnered with Kourtney, the most popular girl in Seven Hills High. It was art class, and we were supposed to work on a commemorative painting of Monet’s work, but she took over. Since no one wanted Kourntey’s clique getting onto them and the fact that she was an amazing artist, I gave in and let her boss me around.
I had gotten several things, like paint brushes and water, but she then told me the shades of paint to get and to hurry it up.
I was juggling eleven tubes of acrylic paint in my hands, trying not to trip over my white apron, and navigating through a very disorganized Art 2 class.
Can you blame me for not looking out for open cabinet doors right at eye level?
One of the paints slipped, so I tried moving my hands around to prevent it from falling. I caught it and looked up just in time to see the painted wood.
The paints flew out of my hands, I tripped over gangly Jason’s legs, and opened my eyes to see Kourtney, covered in paints.
I squeezed my eyes shut, wanting to disappear. It wasn’t me, was it?
I opened my eyes again. Sure enough, I could pick out Rose Petal Pink, Chartreuse, Prairie Meadow Green, and Sky Blue among other colors.
Kourtney glared at me through the oozing paint.
And still my friends wonder why she and her little group of friends glare at me when we pass them in the hall…