"Mortified" doesn't even begin to cover it...

Something happened to me this morning that will leave a scar on my pride for the rest of my life. I am a different woman from here on out.

I can't tell you what happened. I won't write it. For those of you that see me on a regular basis, you know me well enough to know that I will happily tell you my "mortified"-doesn't-even-begin-to-cover-it embarrassing story face to face. But I won't post a permanent record of it online. Even I have limits.

I will say that it involved the new boyfriend and an early morning mishap.

The thing I take away from this experience (besides a bruise from the multiple palm to forehead hits I gave myself today and besides the tension in my back from cringing some many times from the memory) is that I have FABULOUS friends.

Friends that will answer their phone at 7:00 on a Thursday morning. Friends that will laugh at me. Friends that will tell me to get over it. Friends that agree it is the worst thing that could happen and friends that are willing to top my most embarrassing moment with stories that make me have to cross my legs so I don't pee myself from laughter.

I also have friends who point out that if the "fella" can handle this situation, he's a keeper for sure.

But we already knew that.

Anyway, in about a 60-chain gmail today discussing my most recent mortification, someone told me this story, and I couldn't be more grateful for it:

I can top it and make you feel better - during college I lived with a
roommate and my roommate lived with her boyfriend - get it - he was there
ALL THE TIME. One day I contracted the stomach flu - bad - in fact (you
are probably too young to remember), but back in the day Jack in the Box
was handing out free salmonella with their fries - and I got it. I lived
close to the UW and knew that the Quad's bathroom stalls - though they were
nice, were not going to provide enough - how can I say - privacy for what I
needed to do. I ran home, and it was all I could to do, to not (excuse me)
shit my pants. I ran through the door, had my pants down, sat down on the
toilet and exploded. Only then to look up and see my roommate and her
boyfriend in bed having sex - looking at me in the mirror. Worst part was
- I could not even get up to close the door!!!!! We lived through it -
never spoke about it and I was invited to be in her wedding, so do you feel
better now????

Yes. As a matter of fact, I feel 95% better.

My friends are gifts. GIFTS!

And hopefully one day my story from this morning will be a gift to someone else.