Biggest Embarrassment...Or Moment of Shame?

I was watching one of my favorite YouTube channels this morning. They're short drawn animations that are kind of Seinfeld-esque in that he takes normal things and turns them into funny, yet totally accurate and relatable voice-over commentary. He's young; probably only out of college for a few years. As you can imagine, most of his subs are young. I am not.

He had this one episode where he showed his most embarrassing moment. It was a funny one, and probably pretty bad at the time. Like most, he was able to look back and laugh. Which got me thinking...what was MY most embarrassing moment? I thought about it for a while and came up with about 15 moments when I'd wanted to crawl under a rock. But then I started thinking about it more.

Mine were pretty heavy. Where do you draw the line between embarrassment and shame? I'm not really sure, experientially-speaking. To me, they feel almost the same.

Many years ago, when I was a pre-teen, I was a model. Most of it was print ads for department stores, but I also did some runway stuff. I didn't care much about the - publicity? - that came with it, but I loved trying on all the outfits and getting all primped and fancied-up by the MUAs and designers. That was my actual motivation. I guess it was to counteract my rock bottom self-esteem.

There was this one show we did at the mall, for a store long since out of business now, that catered to smaller sizes and not only had clothes that were hip but also styles that were office-appropriate; not something common back then at all. Still isn't, really, so I've heard.

This show had a friggin' choreographer. I'd had to work with her before and I HATED her. God, she was such a bitch. Oh, no...a simple runway show wasn't enough. They wanted to make it a *show*. So they had us in all kinds of formations and places on stage, we'd each take turns doing the catwalk and (here's where it gets tricky), something else after.

The choreographer changed routines over and over. After she'd had us do one, she'd decide she didn't like it and change it up. She must have changed the presentation 5 times. Because of her indecisiveness, we had to go with the last one she tried, with the trial run being our only practice.

Then the mall opened for the day.

With this being a late summer show, getting ready for back-to-school shoppers, the mall was pretty crowded. That wasn't the issue. After a couple of minutes of us taking our places on stage, several familiar faces appeared right at the front of the crowd while the announcer was explaining who we were and so on. They were "popular" girls from school. Ones who bullied the living fuck out of me; the kind that would probably get them arrested today.

I was full of dread and pretty nervous at that point. I mean, some of the other models on stage were "work" friends of mine, but they were a totally different life and knew nothing about my school situation.

The show started and everything was going fine. We were all going in the right order, and so forth. The girls from school actually looked impressed, dare I say, jealous? Their smirks were gone as I did my fancy little turn at the end of T-shaped stage where they were standing. But I was still nervous, self-conscious and, honestly, scared as hell.

Aaaaaand, then it happened. Instead of doing the last routine the choreographer had decided on, I did my *specific* thing from the time before that - one we'd also tried out before. So I took a second walk down the row and back. And then I walked right off the stage. Other models had gone back to their spots after their one run, but in reverse order from their starting points, which is what I should have done. 

But I was so nervous, I forgot. To make it worse, some of the models noticed - duh - and started whispering a little. The other girls continued to do what they were supposed to do, but no one filled in my space. (I later learned from other performance-related things that they didn't do what they should have, which was to fill the empty space to make it less obvious.)

To make things EVEN worse, when I went through the curtain at the back, the choreographer asked me if I was going to be sick. I said no, why would she think that. She raised her voice - I'm sure it was even louder than the music - and was screaming at me that I ruined the show and kept telling me what "an airhead blonde" I was and on and on, belittling me and, eventually, making me cry once the shock wore off.

Even when the show was over and the music had stopped and the other models were filing off stage, she was still yelling at me. In front of the other models, in front of some of the parents, in front of the mall coordinators, and at a volume so loud that everyone else could hear.

I was so embarrassed and couldn't believe I'd been so stupid. How could I have forgotten something like that, especially when 2 other models had gone before me? I tried to justify it by thinking that it was because we'd change the routine so much, or that all the cameras flashing confused me, or that I didn't get a clue because I was starting up in front and only 2 other models had gone before me and I didn't notice they'd moved because we'd been shuffled around so much.

But it didn't matter. The damage was done.

I can't even begin to explain what happened when school started. I got it even worse from those girls than I had before, and it wasn't like they ever let me forget it.

Even though companies had inquired about booking me, I wouldn't do it. My agency wasn't even a little concerned about the incident. "Something like that happens all the time and, hey, you didn't fall down - and that happens even more often." 

That runway show was the last modeling gig I ever did. I regret turning those down, now. But at the time, I couldn't stand the idea of getting up in front of people and being seen after that. I've only been on stage 3 times since then: crossing it for 2 graduations, and the lead in one pep rally performance the teachers put on for the kids - and the only reason I agreed to do it was because I was the only one with dancing experience, I was the only one who wasn't obese, and I got to be in a full-on disguise to look just like the musical performer whose song we were dancing to.

The only reason I got outed as the lead dancer was that a kid came back into my classroom after school - she'd forgotten her purse - and saw me taking off the wig. She told everyone it was me. The videos the kids had taken ended up all over YouTube. But, you know what? I nailed the fucking performance, the kids loved it, and I got compliments for weeks. They saw me in a whole new light, and it was pretty damned cool.

I'll never model again; too old, too fat now. Perhaps I've gotten over my fear of being in a  brief spotlight...and who would have thought 1300 ruthless teenagers would have been the ones to get me through it...

Because of the crazy dance moves in heels, my ankle is...
.