Trampoline Terrors By Wendy Wheatley I would like to believe that I might be able to get through this life with a little dignity, a little grace and maybe even a pinch of style. Ain't gonna happen baby. In the dictionary next to the word clutz, is my picture, with my eyes closed, of course. I just don't think I can get an even break. God has a plan, a vision for me and it's surely not for me to be a slinky catwalk supermodel. (Of all the irony, I'm actually alternating typing and shoveling food into my mouth as I type this....). As if to seal the kiss of cursed death, we attended a BBQ last week where I was amongst some of my closest and dearest friends. They naturally are aware of my wicked streak of oafish mannerisms. And for some reason, I'm still allowed to hang around them. It must be my wonderful personality or something equally nauseating. I'm sure it's for the yucks. Urban legends. They're all true. They all originated in something stupid I did or said. They hang around me for the shocking story they witnessed first hand and they'll be able to tell their coworkers the next day. Our BBQ was proceeding delightfully and I almost dared to believe that *gasp!* I might actually make it through the afternoon with my pride intact. And then the party relocated to the back yard. It was horribly downhill from this point. I had seen it, it had beckoned me. It was the Trampoline from Heaven. Only it was really the Trampoline from Hell in disguise, lurking and waiting to pounce on its latest prey - me. Squealing like a stammering pig, I scampered over and leapt upon the trampoline. Whee! Bounce, bounce, bounce. Oh joy, rapture!! What fun! What thrills! Bounce, bounce, bounce. Whee! Everyone's watching me! It looks just like a tennis match turned sideways. Synchronized heads going up and down, up and down. And they're all watching ME!! Come on you guys!! Watch me jump! Everyone look at me!! Oh come on! Watch me - watch me!! If you've given birth, you know what happens when you sneeze. Yes, that's right. If you're not careful, you'll actually wet yourself. Did I mention I've just had my 3rd child in 4 years? Oh yes. That's right. My bounce, bounce, bounce, was more like a sneeze, sneeze, sneeze on my child-bearing body. Over and over - bounce, bounce, bounce - sneeze, sneeze, sneeze. I jumped for about a good 10 minutes, bouncing (sneezing) over and over (achoo! achoo!) before I felt the warmness. I came to a screeching halt. The jumping stopped. My mind raced. Do I dare to look? Whoops. Everyone else is. Maybe I should too. But I don't want to. But I have to. I have to see if I've peed my pants in front of 30 people - half of them I don't even have a clue who they are. Maybe that's a good thing - because I sure did pee my pants. And I peed them good. I calmly called to my husband who casually grabbed my jacket and delivered it to me so I could tie it around my waist. I was really hoping he'd drag over my invisible cloak, but of all days, I left it at home. It figures. So I peed my pants in front of 30-some people. That's nothing. Someday I'll tell you more from the Chest of Horrors. I have a fascinating collection of stories that will actually make YOU embarrassed for me. They're that bad - I'm that bad. But hey - I look on the bright side. Since no one in they're right mind would come near me, I plopped my rump right in front of the dessert tray and got to eat most of the cherry cheesecake. See - it all works out in the end - literally.
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