Story time, part 1 : My most embarrassing moment as a teenager

I have a million stories floating around in my head. Stories about me, friends, family and even strangers. It would be a travesty to not share these stories with the masses (aka all 4 of you). Here's part 1 in a series of stories that aren't related at all, except that they are in my brain.

*Disclaimer : My memory SUCKS BALLS. I am fully aware of this and sometimes, ok very often, details get skewed in my brain. If you know this story and it's obvious I changed up the details please don't be an ass and point it out. Let me live in my bubble. (Unless you are my Mom, in which case, Mom? You can totally point out my mistakes. Because I love you so.)

My most embarrassing moment as a teenager

When I was a young teenager, around 14 and 15, my best friend's mom worked at a local mall close by. When she went to work Marie* and I trolled the mall for hours. We never actually did shop for anything, considering we had maybe a few dollars between us. We did, however, meet many boys at the mall and even took a few home and I may even have one particular boy's birth certificate, still in my possession (I'll save those stories for later).

One particular day, that resembled many of the same days we shared in the mall, was quite possibly the most embarrassing moment of my short teenage days.

Marie and I had spotted some cute boys and they had obviously spotted us back. Marie and I walked between the kiosk's because we didn't want to be obvious about following them. I'm sure they heard us giggling and talking about them, but that was beside the point. We had to maintain a certain distance in order to talk about how cute their butts were and how much one of them resembled Scott Baio, hair and all. (Aside here: did anyone else watch Charles in Charge?)

Halfway through the mall the boys suddenly turned and started walking our way. Since we had yet to acquire the cool, calmed demeanour of actual adults, we did the only natural thing we knew to do. We turned and ran.

Oh yes, we sure did. We ran away from Scott Baio and the cute butts. We decided that staying in the actual mall was too risky. I mean, we didn't want to MEET these boys, did we? We just wanted to stare at their gorgeousness and with them coming our way, they were foiling our master plan. Marie saw the closest department store that we could duck into, until the coast was clear. The department store was accessed by a ramp or a set of 10 or so stairs. The ramps were on either side of the stairs so it was only logical, based on our present location, to run up the stairs as fast as humanly possible.

And here's where it gets ugly.

Marie raced up the stairs and into the department store, giggling all the way. I was right on her heals making my way up the stairs when all the sudden all I saw was gleaming white marble. In my face. I watched my black purse go flying across the extremely slippery marble and Marie's feet disappear into the shoe department. I lay splayed on the ground for what felt like an eternity until this sweet older lady came to help me, with my purse in her hands.

As I digested the enormity of the situation I quickly jumped up snatched my purse from the lady, choked out a hurried "Thank you!" and ran into the department store. I was so mortified that I didn't even look back or stop running until I had passed the shoe department and made it to the juniors department with the loud music playing that I hoped was drowning out my heart beating in my chest. .

Marie and I giggled for what felt like an eternity. We kept an eye out for the boys for over an hour and I refused to go back into the main part of the mall. What if someone remembered that I was THAT girl. THAT girl who face planted on the pretty marble?

I never did go back into that main part of the mall that day and I often wish I could go back and properly thank the lady who came to help me. Even now when I see those stairs my cheeks feel warm and my palms get sweaty. But I don't have to worry about tripping on the stairs again because now I take the ramp.

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*Not her real first name to protect her privacy. Although she hates me now, so what do I care? Obviously I care a little, I suppose.