With great age comes great responsibility. I see myself clearly in danger slipping into the persona of –old lady who speaks inappropriately, because she can. My filter has started to slip. Rarely did anything inappropriate come out of my mouth in decades past without the prompt of a glass of wine, or extreme exhaustion. My wine consumption these days is so minimal that it renders that excuse moot. But still, with increasing frequency, I think to myself— maybe I shouldn’t have said that. 

There was a time when I embarrassed easily. Looking back, I don’t recall any specific cause of the mortification I suffered. In general, I can say that I have probably been embarrassed by mistakes I’ve made, sometimes my family might have been the cause, as well as friends. I recall feeling humiliated, but nothing specific comes to mind. This memory lapse has nothing to do with the age that has empowered me, because if I put real effort into it, I might possibly scare up a story, but I won’t. I’ve worked too hard to block out those memories. If I didn’t block them out, I might never leave my house for the shame of it. Selective amnesia has been my lifelong coping mechanism. 

For example, I don’t remember the poop explosion detonated in the diaper of my middle child as she sat on my lap at church…a blast so explosive, that it shot up and out of the back of her onesie, past the back of her head, and all over my throat and chest, as we sat, the center of attention during her church baby shower. It was probably my fault for eating broccoli while nursing.

I also don’t remember all the times at the grocery store when my oldest, would practice subterfuge by taking off her dress, and throwing as far as she could from her seat in the cart, sending me chasing after it while she loaded the cart with sugary items off the shelf.

And my son—I don’t remember the time I handed him off to an elderly church lady, a child care volunteer, and witnessed the punch, a direct hit that sent the glasses flying off her face, and across the room. (We no longer attend the afore mentioned church.)

In conclusion, because I don’t recall anything of an embarrassing nature, I hold my head up high when I leave the house in which ever neighborhood I’ve fled to.

These days, it’s my turn to cause the embarrassment. My job now is payback. 



June 8, 2016, One Word Daily Prompt: Embarrassing~ <a href=””>Embarrassing</a&gt;

2 thoughts on “Payback

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