Second Hand Embarrassment: Part II

Welcome back… to my diary. 12-year-old Gina is at it again. Today I would like to share a moment that seemed like a nightmare…at the time. And in my seemingly very dramatic life, it definitely was. 

As you can see, my diary and I are on really close terms this day. Why bother writing out Dear Diary? I clearly didn't have time for that nonsense. 

"Whew!" Did I write this entry during a time out? Am I winded? I am confused. 

No, diary, you seriously won't believe what happened. No, seriously. 

12 year old me: You probably felt like a geek because you ARE a geek. 

Also, your diary doesn't care about your volleyball schedule. Get a more interesting life!

Because I am feeling generous, I am including a visual of 7th grade aged Gina. Yes, that outfit is a product of a sleepover, and could have it's own blog post... but those glasses are the real deal. 

*Legit side note: I would have remembered this event without the verification of my diary. It was very traumatic. This was my FIRST school volleyball game. FIRST. EVER. 7th grade. Literally the first play of the first set of my first game. I should have probably quit immediately at that point. 

Though I didn't go into details here, I vividly remember the ball smashing into my face and knocking my nerdy 7th grade silver wire glasses right off my face. My depth perception must have been sub par. And of course, what I really cared about, was the section of boys from my class laughing hysterically in the bleachers. And yes, they did not let me live that one down. For months. Maybe years. 

If you didn't catch Part I, please feel free to do so HERE. And stay tuned for more- I wish there wasn't. But there is. 

Here's hoping your day has been better than my first volleyball game,

Second Hand Embarrassment: Part I

I'm not sure who officially coined the term "second hand embarrassment," but it's a phrase my sister and I use frequently. Most commonly while watching the Bachelor/Bachelorette. It refers to watching someone make such a fool of themselves that you actually feel their embarrassment as if it were your own.

Well, a few weeks ago while moving and packing some totes, I ran across a few old diaries. I am talking 1999-2000 era. Also known as possibly the most awkward years of my life. I started sending some entries to my sister, and I told her that I felt like I was having second hand embarrassment. Except not. Because it was me.

After getting past the fact that I am (hopefully) currently nothing like my 12 year old self, I decided I can move on and take one for the team. Well, my team. Just... me. So luckily for all of you, I have an arsenal of these diary excerpts. Without further ado, Part I of the Second Hand Embarrassment series:

Alright.. March of 2000. Thank goodness I let my diary know what I had for breakfast. And everyone, for future reference, FT is french toast. 

I think I need to address me "dumping" my 6th grade boyfriend. I am almost certain we didn't actually speak to each other in real life at the time. I wish I would have gone into more detail about the "dumping." Did I pass a note? Did I send a message via a girlfriend? Did I scream that I was tired of being treated like private property during recess? God only knows. And… the nerve of these 6th grade boys thinking we "R" their (quick round of applause for me using the correct form of their as a 6th grader… since many people still do not have that skill) property! But seriously. What could have constituted this? I did watch a lot of trashy dating shows. It only makes sense that it would translate into my own life, obviously. 

Also, this 3 year relationship must have been pretty serious. Especially since it started in 3rd grade. 

Lastly, can we appreciate that I illustrated an eyeball in place of simply writing the word 'I'? I must have had a lot of free time on my hands. Young Gina, don't worry, you will get sick of Jr. High too. And high school. And college. And working. Toughen up! 

Until next time.