Not an embarrassing one, though. I don't have the confidence to spill the beans on how I went to my niece's school BBQ in June wearing the batik wraparound dress my aunt got from Indonesia. It was a cute little number and I loved the wraparound style skirt.
Unfortunately, so did the wind.
And on a hot and windy summer day in June, my dress flew up and my niece's school discovered that I own a pair of lace underwear.
But that's not a funny story. That's an embarrassing one.
A funny story is nothing like the knowledge that was revealed to me in the heat of a July day as my husband came in from mowing the lawn.
"Babe," his good natured grin said.
"Yes, " I smiled, as I towel-dried my freshly washed hair.
"Remember how we were told that the curtains in our room are opaque?"
"Yep."
"They aren't. I've just watched you walk around naked for the last 10 minutes since you got out of the shower."
No, no. That's not the worst part.
I was told my curtains were opaque last summer.
Which means I have been mooning my neighbourhood for at least 365 days--in all sorts of weather.
But that's not a funny story. That's a humiliating story.
A story that is absolutely not funny is the time in August when the renovation guy knocked on our door at an early hour.
He said "Hello" and held up the quote that he had promised to bring me.
I asked him to hand it to my daughter seeing as she was right next to him.
We both then exchanged a look, knowing full well that I was sitting on the couch with my son sprawled across my lap as a veiled attempt to disguise the fact that I was only wearing a t-shirt and underwear.
File it under 'mortifying' because it ain't going under 'funny.'
And today on the last day of the local pool being open, a final homage to my summer of nudeness was paid when my son grabbed at my aging bathing suit and pulled down the top left half.
My local town now knows me as "The Streak".
I'm nude and on the loose.
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