A few embarrassing stories 

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Those who know me know that I’m prone to embarrassing things happening to me. It’s like I attract the worst situations. Whilst it does make for humorous story telling, at the time it’s a “I want to sink into the centre of the earth and never come out again” kind of feeling. I’m the type of person who regularly pushes on a pull door.

I’ve collated a list of my most embarrassing moments for you all.

1. High Jump 

Getting in the Olympic spirit I took part in a PE class in high school in which we were all aiming for Gold. With bronze successfully completed, I prepared myself for the Silver. I can’t remember the exact measurements in terms of height but silver was a big step up from bronze. Bracing myself for the jump, I took my running steps and plummeted over the bar. Only I was faced with a shooting pain on the landing. I had, unfortunately, kneed myself in the face causing my front teeth to bleed. At first I was in shock, then I was in disbelief. My front two teeth were uneven. Long story short, over the next year I was back and to the dentist for my root canal surgery to stop it from dying and turning grey and even wore a brace for a period of time – my teeth are still uneven and the damaged tooth is slightly discoloured to the rest.

Moral of the story?   Never do high jump. Period.


Lets take a trip down memory lane to the Summer of Year 9.

On a drunken adventure, I made my way to a place known to me as “Mini Wembley.” I met my friends there and it was a night of drinking the evening away. That is until I had someone’s fingers down my throat trying to make me be sick after dropping me on my head, not once but twice. All out of love I can assure you. Thinking I was okay I trotted off back into the night. It was home time. I was already late leaving by half an hour and so I was trying to pick up some speed.

Or so I thought.

A few hours had passed and I found myself waking up inside of a bush facing green railings that looked out onto a housing estate. My shorts were dripping wet and I had lost my phone somehow. I was so confused. All I know is somehow I managed to get a taxi to take me home. Only when I got home I was greeted to an angry father asking where hell I had been. The whole family including my aunty and cousins had gone out on a search party for me and all my friends on Facebook where trying to track my whereabouts. I ended up being grounded for a month and I still didn’t find my blackberry phone.

Moral of the story?   Don’t get drunk and get concussion.


3. English class Booty Bomb.

Pictured above is me and my pal Pascale. She was a witness to what I like to call the booty bomb. It was your average English lesson on a hot springtime day. We had just come back off our lunch break and was ready for our next lesson. Lucy and Jasmine were sat behind us as usual and no doubt me and Lucy were singing along to Chicago or something along those lines. I seriously don’t know how they put up with us. Or me for that matter. But they did and I love them for it. Anyways I can’t remember the exact story Pascale was telling me but what i do know is that it was very funny. So funny that I actually farted mid laughter – which made me go bright red and ended with us both in a fit of giggles and a slight look of disgust on Pascale’s face. She didn’t unfortunately laugh a bit too much and was sentenced to being sent out of the room if she carried on. Whoops, sorry Pascale.

Moral of the story?   Don’t ever get over excited in a room full of silence.


4. Taxi, taxi, taxi. Or perhaps not?

This midnight mishap happened as I was leaving a party that had about 200 guests attending. it was at a venue that is literally on my doorstep back home. For some reason or other I decided I was getting a cab home (despite living 2 minutes away, walking.) Just as I was leaving a black car, I think, approaches the venue and I tried to get into the vehicle only to realise later it was somebody’s Grandad, I think, picking somebody up from the event. Biggest idiot of the year award goes to me once again.

Moral of the story?   alcohol + me = bad mistakes.


5. The life of an orange child. 

At the tender age of 9 I decided it was a good idea to go rooting through the bathroom cupboards. I found my mother’s tanning wipes. Although at the time I thought they were just wipes. I covered myself in its bronzing moist making sure I hit every spot on both my legs and my arms. I was absolutely glowing the next day. My mum picked me up from netball after school and I was in my PE kit. She took one look at my bare arms and legs and asked what the hell had I done. Looking back I must have looked like a satsuma.

Moral of the story?   Always read the label.



6. Oops I did it again…


It was the summer of 2016 and I was excited about an upcoming festival I was going to be attending called Creamfields. In preparation for the even, I decided to go and get my hair cut. Only when I actually sat down in the barber’s chair, I started to realise that this was one of my worst mistakes of the year. Asking for a number 2 on the sides the barber proceeded to shave my locks, only she didn’t stop at the sides. Instead she took it off the top.


My shouts unfortunately couldn’t resurrect my locks. There was clearly a misunderstanding between the two of us and it was probably my fault. So I laughed it off asking her to try and fix it in anyway she could. It was too late though 3/4 of my head was shaved leaving me with a flappy fringe on one side that looked a show. I guess I was clinging onto my fringe hoping it would look alright.

In the end I got it all chopped off by Jane. She was a lifesaver!


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