Renée A. Schuls-Jacobson–mother, teacher, accomplished blogger and writer–is running an intriguing series, So Wrong. She wanted us to dig deep and cough up some of our most embarrassing, humiliating moments. Things that actually taught us a lesson. Not surprisingly, my well of embarrassing moments was deep, but rarely did I ever learn a lesson. Please.
Except this one time in the early 1980s when I was mortified beyond belief in front of the boy I really, really liked in seventh grade. It involved much pining and crying. And Reeboks and jean jackets. Also, I might have boogied to The Safety Dance. I made sure to document it all in my cherished diary. (Which is like, totally, like, real and all. Like, Seriously.)
So if you want to take a trip back to the ’80s and experience my unrequited love, you don’t want to miss this story —>Dear Diary, I Hate You. Be sure to check out the other humiliating stories while you’re there. Feel free to leave your own embarrassing story in the comments. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.
43 thoughts on “Dear Diary, I Hate You”
Love you for being a part of my blogging life. And for sharing your moment. Like seriously.
Thanks again, Renee, for letting me hang out at your place! It was fun.
Oh man! I was suffering for you as I read this post! You poor thing! Glad you survived it and lived to tell about it. 🙂
To think that moment would be forever immortalized on this here blog. See, everything happens for a reason. Thanks for reading!
Wow! That sweater..wow! Lol.
What are you trying to say? That it’s super duper hot? The coolest? How can you go wrong with rainbow stripes and a heart on your boob? I still have it in my closet, I should start wearing it again.
I was thinking if you wore it today people would think you were fabulous, wink wink.
Most definitely. I should take a photo right now and use it as my avatar. I’d attract new readers. The wrong kind, but still.
Wow, that was so sad. Kids can be such a-holes sometimes! I did not have a diary, in fact I’m not sure many boys keep or kept diaries, that was a girl thing. We just brood about and hold-in all our emotions in our simple little brains. Kids probably don’t have diaries much anymore I would guess. Nothing’s a secret these days, it’s all just out there in social media.
I thought the same thing. Nothing’s a secret anymore. Sad they won’t be able to revisit the thoughts and events described in a diary or journal like Darla has. Great post!
God, Steve you just nailed it with “we just brood and hold in all our emotions in our simple little brains”. Ain’t that the truth!
So what did you guys do when you had a crush? Throw paste at her? Go burn some ants with a magnifying glass to release pent-up tension?
I would actually eat the paste, then throw ants at her… but I was never much of a womanizer! I don’t really remember how boys dealt with that kind of stuff, seems like SO long ago.
Heehee. Throwing ants was a good tactic, I bet. It DOES seem like ages ago, doesn’t it. It was all I could do to remember what the hell went down with my little Ex-lax fiasco. I had to dig deep.
Kids suck! So mean. 😦 But I think it’s cool that you shared that.
Makes me almost want to dig up my diary but…nope…makes me cringe just to think about the stupid crap I wrote.
“wearing your heart on your boob” – Ha ha! Heading over to witness your shame…er, I mean read your heart-wrenching account.
I felt your pain on reading that. I keep being revisited by some of my most embarassing moments now so thanks 😉
Yikes. We all have some, don’t we? I just took my embarrassment as a lesson and made sure to treat others better and always root for the underdogs in life. I’m much more empathetic now and that is always a good thing. Also: I never eat someone else’s chocolate.
I’m quite empathetic but I would still steal someone’s chocolate. I prefer crisps though.
True, I have been known to steal a little of my kids’ chocolate. I can’t help it.
You are a brave soul for sharing such traumatic memories. I am currently having flashbacks of similarly embarrassing days gone by …
thanks. I had serious pause before writing about this. But then I thought, well, it’s in the past. Might as well make fun of it now, it’s therapeutic.
Someone ‘stole’ my diary and took it school when I was in the 7th grade. Seriously. I am still pissed at that bitch.
What?! That is awful!! I can see how traumatic that would have been for you.
I should send my therapy bills to her if I ever decide to go to one. haha
Hell yeah! Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout.
You can go with me. Double the expenses.
Oh Darla, I don’t know if I’d be more upset at John for tricking me into eating an ex-lax or my brothers for telling him. Did that event cause you to stop writing in your diary altogether? Or, did you keep pouring your heart out on to paper?
I have a collection of diaries dating back to when I was ten years old. I’m not sure what to do with them? Maybe I should put them in a safety deposit box. I’ve often wondered what my children would think if they ever got their hands on my journals. I’m sure they would probably blush after reading them!
I think I was pretty naïve and dimwitted enough to keep writing in that diary. Hopefully I put it in a safer place though. I did switch to a Judy Blume diary after that. I know this because in my little red diary, if I had something very juicy to write, I would just write: See “Judy Blume Diary”. I soooo wish I had the Judy Blume diary today but it’s gone forever, I’m afraid.
I would hope your kids wouldn’t stumble upon your diaries until they are much older and you won’t care what they know about your secrets.
There is nothing more liberating than telling all your embarrassing stories. That way you get to spin them, rather than the other way around. And I would know… 😉
Exactly! I may have added a few things here and there to make myself look less of a fool, but then we all do that.
These guest blogs throw me for a loop. I’m never sure who exactly I’m commenting to – please feel free to go over there and read my comment, or just accept my kudos on another great post without all that extra clicking.
I know, I forgot to click the little box to “turn off the comments” for this post. Oh well. You can comment here, there, it’s all good and makes my day. Thanks for reading my diary, Dave!
When I was in junior high, someone left a note for me in my locker one day. It was a guy (a secret admirer) who said he really liked me a lot, and he wanted me to like him, too. He told me to ride the shuttle bus to the high school at the end of the day, and he would get on the shuttle and sit with me.
I couldn’t wait to see who it was. As other girls and friends got on the bus and went to sit with me, I told them no, I was saving the seat. The bus doors closed, and I was the only one sitting alone. I heard the “mean girls” a few seats behind me laughing their butts off. I hope they are all fat and bald now.
I commented in both places. 😉
Ugh, that is terrible! I’ve been there before. Kids can really be cruel.
Loved the post!! And the photos of actual diary entries. You poor, poor soul. A run-in with ex-lax, even if it is fake, would be mortifying for any junior higher–akin to going to a Genesis concert. I have two brothers so I understand the horrors–with as many as you have, I’m not sure how you survived, let alone got married.
Yes, thank you–Ex Lax IS akin to a Genesis concert!
Also, “heart on my boob” made me guffaw.
That sweater was pretty awful.
I of course will go read, try not to laugh or make fun. Brave soul you are.
The angst of the teen years. You captured it perfectly, Darla. I recall the betrayal I felt by someone I thought was a friend. Also a sharp lesson that I never forgot. Thanks for sharing your story.
One year, before we went on vacation, I hid my diary so successfully that I forgot where I put it. About a year later I found it. It was the last I kept a diary until I was an adult.
Good thing you found your diary and not somebody else.
John was a jerk. Tracy was probably a jerk, too. Their loss. And another great post.
LOL, the Safety Dance will always be a classic. Love the 80’s references. Thanks for the laugh