We watched from below the basket, mesmerized, as the orange ball bounced off the rim, falling down to our outstretched hands. The ball chose me, and I hastily shot it up again, excitedly observing as it swished through the net.

I threw my arms in the air, squealing gleefully only to notice the opposing team was doing the exact same thing. My own teammates were glumly looking down at the floor, evading the brightly glaring scoreboard, which did not lie.

I had just scored for the wrong team.

This is probably my most embarrassing moment; however, recently there has been some tough competition.

Years later, I’ve rationalized that incident; it was 5th grade, my first game, and I was caught up in the moment. Although, I cannot deny how horrible I felt after scoring that fateful basket, perched on the bleachers, sobbing as our coach patted me gently on the back.

I’m over it. But if someone wished to be cruel about it, it is also true that I scored for my team that night, making my mistake even.

The other day at school after 6th hour, I was descending the stairs, my thoughts somewhere far away. With my head in the clouds, my feet jumped on an opportunity to fail me — in the large puddle on the landing.

And I went down hard. I sort of caught myself before my face smacked the floor, but the rest of my body was soaked.

Shocked at this abrupt change in position, and absolutely mortified, I froze on the ground in the unrealistic hope that none of the students milling around me had noticed my situation. The burly boy behind me has the grace to point out, “This floor is kinda wet.” Huh.

My new job, bussing at a local restaurant, provides me with a plethora of chances to humiliate myself. Already, I am a fairly klutzy girl. Give me a humongous tray loaded sky-high with dishes, and disaster is looming.

Well, that’s life. Everyone has embarrassing moments. I get over my collection, by making fun of them. Cleansing my aura, one mortifying moment at a time.

Even though, six years later, I feel a little bitter about that basket.

I would love for readers to share their moments of shame here!

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