Flushed Friday

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Last night, I did not sleep well.

I was up most of the night with my very fevered and extremely clingy two year old daughter.

As I faded in and out of sleep, my mind went a wandering. I had this one train of thought that went like this…

My daughter feels warm…

I wonder if she’s flushed?

Flushed starts with the letter “F”…

Tomorrow is Friday...

I need an “F” word to write about…

Flushed…

What does “flushed” mean?

Flush the toilet? Fat flush? Flushed face?

Why does your face flush?

Because you have a fever…

Or you’re hot and sweaty…

Or sun burned…

Or you have Captain Red Face..(Here’s the link if you don’t know what that is;   .https://nfrederick78.wordpress.com/2013/04/07/captain-red-face)

Or you drank too much…

Or because you’re embarrassed…

I could write about being embarrassed…

What time is it?

Why won’t my daughter sleep?

I need to pee…

I’ll make sure to flush after I pee…

I wonder if I’ll be flushed while I flush?

When I got in the shower this morning, my mental ramblings came back to me. The word “flushed” popped back into my mind and stayed there for most of the day.

On my lunch break at work, I started to think about things that I’ve done that have been embarrassing.

Let me tell you, it’s a very lengthily list.

Out of nowhere, a beer soaked memory from the late nineties came rushing back to me…

It was a Monday night in the summer of 1997. I was enjoying some pints with friends at our local watering hole. I had just turned nineteen and was leaving for University in a few short weeks. It was a tumultuous time in my life. I was both anxious and excited about moving away. Drinking beer in bulk seemed to be the only solution for quelling my university anxieties.

It was my turn to buy the next round. I floated from my seat to the bar. I was just starting to feel the affects of the alcohol. I felt light and cheery and completely zen as I ordered a pitcher of beer.

Pitcher in hand, I made my way back out to the patio where my friends were waiting. As soon as I set foot outside, I noticed that a group of guys had taken up residence directly behind where my friend and I were sitting.

These just weren’t any guys…these were the supremely popular and attractive boys that had graduated from high school a few years before me.

Because I was enjoying the early effects of my beer buzz, I confidently smiled at them as I walked over to my table. I felt like a million bucks!

I set the pitcher on our table and reached into my bag to get some lip balm before sitting down.

I had just tucked into my pint when all of a sudden someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around and was completely floored to see that it was one of the cool, older boys. I flashed him a huge, “I’m so awesome” smile. I couldn’t believe that this total babe wanted to talk to me! ME! I didn’t even think those boys knew I was alive! Now one of them was touching me! ME!

Before I had the chance to say something witty and charming that would make this boy fall madly in love with me, I noticed that he was holding something peculiar in his hand.

“I think you dropped this,” he said as he handed me an individually wrapped maxi pad. I recognized it immediately. It was my standby Always pad that I kept in my bag for emergencies.

“It fell out of your purse”, he said as his handsome boy friends erupted in laughter.

I sat there, totally frozen, with a maxi pad wrapped in pastel pink paper sitting in the palm of my hand. I was so embarrassed that my face turned fire engine red. I wanted to crawl under my table and die.

As I watched Sanitary Napkin Delivery Boy walk back to his table and high five his bros, I made the swift decision that I would not let him ruin my night. I stoically tucked my feminine protection back into my bag and promptly did a shot of tequila…followed by another.

The rest of the night is pretty much a blur.

I wish this story had a different ending. One where I walk up to Sanitary Napkin Delivery Boy and his table of hot boys and eloquently call them out for their immature behaviour. The bar patrons would erupt in applause and people would chant my name. The boys would be forced to leave and once they were gone, the barkeep would enthusiastically shout, “drinks on the house” and strangers would come up to me and pat me on the back and give me high fives.

In reality, the night ended with me drinking way too much and regressing to my socially awkward grade nine self…the same girl that got so nervous walking past the lockers where those older boys hung out that I would literally sweat through my winter jacket.

So there you have it.

Whenever I think of the word “flushed” in the future, I will be taken back to that fateful night when a hot guy personally delivered my dropped feminine hygiene product.

Silver lining…

At least it wasn’t a used pad…

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