The day my Dad, trying to be cool, picked me up from Primary school on his awesome motorbike. VF750 of hotness.
Wearing his full leather gear. Silver leather. Silver leather jumpsuit. It was the 80's.
To top it off... I had to leave my bike at school and walk back later, lift it over the fence and ride it home anyway.
Sitting in class, about Year 10, hearing everyone sniggering behind me, knowing it would have been something to do with my group. Feeling the oddest feeling on my leg and smelling... Oh the horror of smelling burnt leg hair, looking down and seeing Chris wriggling, commando style on the floor, back to his seat with a cigarette lighter. I objected to shaving. Apparently Chris objected to feminine leg hair.
Walking into my Debutante Ball, hair curled, wearing professionally applied makeup and having no one recognise me. To the point where I hovered around the group my partner was with and listened to them wonder what it would be like to see me in a dress. Even my partner/boyfriend didn't realise it was me for a while. Possibly should have taken a bit more care of my personal presentation prior to year 11. (or 12...can't remember which year my Deb was)
Lending my cat costume that my Mama had so lovingly made for me, to a friend, who never returned it. Marmie was upset and requested that I ask for it back, which I screwed up all my courage to do. It was never returned. I still feel bad about that. I should have been stronger and gone over and taken it back.
Now I feel sad and icky. Time to cuddle a Sara kitten! (SiDana is not speaking to me after the vet's visit today...) (But at least she came home from it!)