My Valentine for You

Whenever someone asks me to relate my most embarrassing story, I’m always at a loss for a moment. Because I have more embarrassing stories than Bai Ling has fugly outfits. Today I shall tell you just one of those stories. And nobody but you and I will know of it, because it was a solo expedition into HumiliaTown.

I was about 13, on a shopping trip with relatives at the mall in the Bratwurst Capital of the World when it happened. We were in the Deb store (which is pretty embarrassing to begin with), searching high and low for affordable, flattering clothing that didn’t appear to be sewn by malnourished toddlers in a Malaysian sweatshop until you got a really close look at the seams. Anyway, that particular Deb store had been established in space that was once home to a vast supermarket, or maybe a bratwurst-stuffing factory. Or at least that seemed to be the case, because the store was huge.

As I perused the racks, I saw very familiar-looking girl across the store. There were plenty of shoppers searching for bargains in Deb that day, and why I happened to lock eyes with this particular girl still escapes me. Distracted by our shopping companions, we returned to the tasks at hand. A second later I looked up at her again. She was still looking at me.

Where had I seen this girl before? She was about my age, so maybe at some school-related function. Perhaps a basketball game? I wondered if her school was in my school’s sports conference. I squinted.

She was STARING at me. Clearly, she recognized me from somewhere as well.

I thought I’d risk it. I would give her a quick wave. If she returned it, we’d meet in the middle and get to the bottom of the mystery. If not, well, I could just pretend to be waving at someone behind her and duck into the nearest rack of pants.

I waved at the familiar girl.

And immediately dropped my arm.

Because I was waving at myself.

Turns out the Deb store was SO BIG because they’d covered every wall in mirrors, the deceptive bastards. And I was seeing, and then waving, at my own reflection. No WONDER that girl looked so familiar! I saw her every morning when I popped zits and curled that horrible poof I used to have on the top of my head.

Ta-dah!

The embarrassing story has ended, go in peace. The End.