Remember the March Challenge?  Yeah, let's just call it the May Challenge, shall we?

I let this post sit for days months because I couldn't figure out how to narrow my embarrassing moments down and pick just one.  Then I read my friend Donette's post, and realized I don't have to limit my embarrassment to just one moment. 

Lucky me.

Prepare to have my life flash before your eyes.

Moment #1:  Youth Group Picnic
The summer after sixth grade, I started attending youth group activities.  The first one was a parent/teen picnic.  My fellow formerly-sixth-grade friends and I filled our paper plates with food from the outdoor buffet line and boldly found empty chairs in the circle under a huge tree where all the "real" teens were sitting.  Our parents also filled their plates and found spots somewhere else where all the other parents were gathering to talk about how unbelievable it was for their darling children to be old enough for youth group already.  The heat and humidity were somewhat relieved in the shade created by the spreading branches of the giant tree over us, but I still sweatily wished for a cool breeze to start up as I picked up a ruffled potato chip and brought it to my mouth regretting that I had forgotten to scoop any dip onto my plate.  My friends, Kristin and April, sat beside me quietly nibbling their food, slightly intimidated like I was by the new group of teens we had joined. 

Just then, I felt a large bug smack into my forehead, right where my hairline started.  The impact must have startled me because at the same time I felt my paper plate jump in my hand, and I looked down to see if I had spilled any food.  I hadn't.  But I did notice a tablespoon-sized glob of chip dip on my plate, and I stared at it, not remembering putting it there.  Hesitantly, I used my half-eaten chip to scoop some up.  It was white with black specks.  Was it ranch dip?  French-onion?  I racked my brain trying to remember the various dips that had been on the buffet table so I could determine which kind I must have scooped onto my plate.  I raised the dip-laden chip to my lips, but my friend's high-pitched squeak stopped me.  She pointed with wide eyes to my forehead.  I set the chip carefully down on my plate, wiped the grease and salt from my fingers with a napkin, and gingerly touched the spot where I had earlier felt the bug hit my forehead.

My fingers encountered something wet and smooshy.  Gross!  I thought, Bug guts!  I pulled my hand away and inspected my fingers.  They were covered in chip dip.  The same dip that I had just contemplated on my plate.  How had I gotten dip in my hair?  I wondered.  Then horrified, I thought about which teen boys had been near me in the buffet line.  Had any of them seen me smear dip into my hair and walk around like that?  I was so embarrassed.

I set my plate down on my chair and rushed into the church bathroom.  The mirror showed me a massive glop of dip starting in my hair and running down my forehead.  I couldn't believe my friends hadn't pointed it out to me sooner! 

Then I realized.

That was no dip.

It was bird poop.

I remembered the tree.  I remembered the impact on my head.  I remembered the plate jump.  I had been pooped on.

AND HAD ALMOST EATEN IT.

flickr photo by Ferran Pastana

Can your embarrassing moment top that? 

(Because if it can, I have more moments to tell you about.  I'm just too tired to type them out right now.)