Well. Me and the Voice who lives in my head debated sharing this story since I’m still rubbing salve into the mental scarring it left in its wake.
Eventually we did rock, paper, scissors and he won. Oh well – at least it’ll give you a good laugh at my expense to set you up for the weekend!
Before I lived in Spain I went for a weeks holiday to visit my sister and her friends who had already flown the coop.
At some stage during the week someone suggested banana-boating and obviously I was still caught in a vodka haze from the night before because like a complete-fupping-idiot I thought it was a grand idea.
Let me paint a little picture of me at that time: in my early twenties I didn’t have a lot of confidence. I was comfy enough with people I knew, but if I was on a night out I wouldn’t have struck up conversation with someone new or anything.
I was also quite a bit heavier and had zero body confidence. So while my sister and her mates sported legs up to their eyeballs and tops that barely went round my thigh, I was always happy in jeans and a t-shirt, hugging a pint in the corner, minding my own. Suited me down to the ground.
But fair play to them, they always gave me compliments and made me feel like part of the gang.
Back to the bloody banana boat.
Just pi*s off
There we were on the harbour, the girls in their string bikinis with lovely tanned skin. Me feeling like an anemic Aberdeen Angus in a sensible black one piece that was so naff my Granny wouldn’t have worn it. (whoever was responsible for knowingly selling that hideous thing to a 24 year old should be plunged into a bath of wet tripe)
Off we went. *shakes head despairingly* 2 seconds in, I knew I was gonna fall off the thing. There wasn’t a hope my bingo wings were gonna hold out. Since I already felt like a complete tit I thought f*ck it, at least I can hide my stretchmarks in the water…so a quick splash later, I gave up the ghost.
The girls finished and a little Spanish guy in a motor boat swung back pick me up. Except. he. didn’t. have. the. strength. to. get. me. on. the. boat. *pauses to give you a chance to pull yourself together after laughing your head off*
He spent a good five minute tugging at the bust and backside area of my swimsuit. (Which was, by the way totally unnecessary, the man was just an opportunist)
To make matters worse he kept shouting “push! harder! higher!” with a very sweaty red face, while I was saying “I’m trying! I’m trying!”. The whole scene was like some ocean fetish low budget porno movie except no one was having any fun.
Eventually he conceded “miss you are too big, I need friend” – no shit Sherlock! I’m already at the peak of humiliation, why not invite a few buddies to the party!
So he left me bobbing away like an utter lemon (I looked like one too in the frigging life jacket). He took a little while, I think they were drawing short straws as to who was going to fish the spud-loving hefty lady out of the water.
I had to start paddling too because I feared I would be swept away by the tide while my rescuer was trying to source the strongest man on the island.
Meanwhile on the harbour my sister was peeing herself laughing in her usual supportive way and to my complete delight a lovely crowd had gathered to enjoy the show. I would have took the jacket off and sunk to the bottom except the little boat returned in the nick of time with reinforcements.
The two men then proceeded to grab one cheek each of the backside of my suit and hoisted me with all their strength onto the boat – giving me an atomic wedgie so extreme that I practically tasted the Lycra.
As we approached the little harbour and I was contemplating sticking my face into the boat’s propellor in shame – the (now larger) crowd all begin cheering and clapping on my behalf!
Not only that, after the experience while the girls were trying to reassure me it wasn’t that bad (it f*cking was!) I completely scorched every piece of lily-white flesh that wasn’t covered by my gruesome swimwear…I couldn’t sit or lie for the rest of the week. So I just got drunk instead.
Literally, the most embarrassing experience of my entire life.
And I got to pay for it.
Scene of the crime
Oh well, I can’t die of embarrassment. (unfortunately) Happy Friday! Hope it’s a cracker! X
Word Prompt: Tide
Confessions Of An Irish Procrastinator 