Adventures in Myopia

FlHave you ever been in a situation so embarrassing you felt like a sticky, smelly piece of turd and whenever your mind strays into memories of the day you physically cringe or let a soft, whispered "shit!" slip from your lips?

Well, I've had a fair share of those. And an early start too.

My first tryst with embarrassment was way back in kindergarten. Our school used to have a waiting area near the gate where parents wait for their tots while sharing juicy gossip about everyone's lives except their own. The place would be crazy around late afternoon, when the PM kids get dismissed and start running around like headless chicken on the quadrangle. You see, playing for a while after classes is like a sacred ritual for most kids back then, except for nerds-in-the-making who trundle home early and finish their assignments before 6:30 pm in the name of almighty gold (come March).

I was never like that though. Although I liked books I was never pushed to outdo everybody else in academics. Suffice to say, I belong more to the jolly brethren of headless chicken, only worse, since I have poor eyesight. Mom said letting me run and play all over the place was an exercise in motherly worry and despair since I keep on tripping and scratching my knees and running and tripping again, all the while bumping unseen objects, classmates, teachers, nuns and an occassional principal (halaaaa! ma-o-opis kaaaa!). By the time I'm finished, a house rag would look sparkling white beside the thing I wear that looks like my polo, only several shades darker with the artistic hand impressions of half our class.

That's not the embarassing part though, the real winner was tugging at my mother's arm, clawing at her duster and using it to wipe the sweat dripping from my face and arms, only to look up and find that "mom" had shorter hair, missing teeth (at least she was smiling at me) and completely different face from my one, true mother.

I could've sworn I felt my hair stand up on end. My face felt like a balloon swelling to bursting point, and summoning all the pride and manhood I had at that time - I ran away. Fast. Really fast. I can hear my REAL mom hollering out at me from behind but it didn't matter anymore. I don't want to make the same mistake again. I resolved not to go home with anyone. I will go home on my own. I so adamantly refused to be overtaken by the sting of embarrassment that I hid inside some empty classroom, resolving to go home after everyone has left.

Well that was at least until mom came with the guard and dragged me home by the ears.

That's nothing though. I can shrug off pinches and sermons. It's the 5 year old ego that was really hurting. Myopia, I curse thee!