Redfaced and Reckless
I got asked at dinner the other night what my most embarrassing moment ever was. You'd think I'd have to contemplate that for a while, go through my mental files of blush-inducing moments, but there's one incident that leaps to the surface, as much as I've tried to bury it. It was the last summer weekend before high school started. I was an incoming freshman and found myself at the freshman retreat at Camp Oak Hill in North Carolina, designed to make us a giant, happy, drama-free family before being thrust into the upper school. Grabbing my swimsuit (a modest bikini, I thought I was SO cool for having a two-piece), I raced to the zipline, anticipating the inevitable adrenaline rush. A sizable chunk of my classmates sat at the edge of the lake and watched people zip over the glassy surface of the water before plunging into the water and rising up again due to the buoyancy of the line. I tapped my hot pink painted toes on the wooden platform, desperate to show off my ...