When I learned that alcohol and wet t-shirts do not mix...

I need you all to understand that yesterday's post does not mean that I will never mention Kirby again. He has been a part of my life for 10 years and will continue to be a part of my life. There are still funny stories that I will share, angry times that I will vent and moments where I may need a bit of therapy...

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING BLOG MAY CONTAIN MATERIAL NOT FIT FOR ANY FAMILY MEMBER TO READ - EVER! PROCEED WITH CAUTION AND READ ON AT YOUR OWN RISK (ALEX, LOREN, MONICA: THIS MEANS YOU - IF YOU READ THIS I WILL NEVER DISCUSS IT WITH YOU EVER, PERIOD)!

When I was old enough to start getting into nightclubs I went through a bit of a party stage. Okay, who am I kidding, I went through a MAJOR party stage. There were times that I woke up in the morning still drunk and needed my employees to drive me to work...way to gain the respect!

I was young and irresponsible (though a retail chain deemed me responsible enough to manage their local stores and a handful of employees). I enjoyed heading to the clubs and getting some attention. I was young (and much skinnier). Aside from the responsibilities at my job I had none. So why not?!

Kirby and I met at the club that my girlfriend and I frequented. He was a bouncer...I was naive and enamoured and thought dating a bouncer would be the coolest thing.

Soon after he and I started dating my girlfriend and I decided to enter the wet t-shirt contest that the nightclub put on every week. The cash prize was pretty substantial, what could be the big deal, right?

I have never been more wrong in my life...

Before we went to the club I started to drink. Legally, I was not old enough so I couldn't drink in the bar and I knew that if I was going to do this I was going to need me some alcohol. So we drank, shitty wine coolers, nothing that even began to give me the buzz that I needed.

Finally we got into the club, we signed up for the contest and they took us to the back room with the other girls that had signed up. We were each given white Fruit of the Loom t-shirts and a pair of scissors. We could create our own shirt, or, in my case, your bouncer boyfriend could create your shirt.

When I walked out into the club it looked like I was barely wearing anything. The t-shirt had been cut into tube top with slits up the sides...my nipples were barely covered (and until I had kids there wasn't a whole lot to cover).

I was terrified.

The put us all on stage in a line and one at a time we stepped into the kiddie pool while the male staff members poured water over us while the enormous audience screamed and hollered for whomever they wanted to win. I don't ever remember the club being that packed on a weeknight...

(As I write this I realize all over again how absolutely degrading this is and I wonder how I ever allowed myself to get talked into this).

I looked out into the audience and saw men that I once worked with...I saw the man from the pool hall (Stew) that I absolutely adored...I started to shake. I was seriously shaking...I thought I might pass out.

My girlfriend stepped in the pool. She was never one to be shy. She made it look good. I could do that, right?

It was my turn. I stepped into the pool, made eye contact with the guys I use to work with and allowed these men to dump FREEZING cold water on me. As if I wasn't shaking enough already, the water was FREEZING! I lost my breath it was So. Freaking. Cold. I looked like a moron. I stood there shaking, gasping for air...mortified. The crowd went dead silent aside for a few pity claps and one crazy guy yelling...

In the end neither my girlfriend or I won (shocking, I know!). One of the other contestants (who happened to be a professional stripper complete with fake boobies - can you say CHEATER?) won and took home all the money. I do believe that my girlfriend placed second...but once that cold water hit me the blood rushed from my brain trying to warm my poor boobies so I don't remember a whole lot...

I quickly ran out back to change into my regular clothes and melt away...but I couldn't. My public was awaiting my return.

As I went back in the club Stew's girlfriend approached me. "He was screaming like a maniac for you." How sweet. He was the crazy guy yelling at the terrified girl standing in the kiddie pool gasping for air and shaking like she was having a seizure...I knew there was a reason I adored him - he was too nice for his own good!

WTF was I thinking? And, seriously, why in the world would Kirby have "allowed" me to do that?

Ladies, if you are reading this and thinking that a wet t-shirt contest may be a good way to earn some extra money, I assure you IT IS NOT! That water is COLD! You don't have even a second to gather your bearings and look pretty...I think pimping yourself might be easier - I am sure there are better ways to earn a few extra bucks.

I have never, since that moment, shown my breasts in public (aside from a little innocent nursing of the youngins). It truly was one of the most mortifying moments of my life, I am not sure how I lived through it...to this day when I think about it I get a pit in my stomach...

It was soon after that they closed the club and opened a much larger one next door. The stopped having those wet t-shirt contests...I like to believe I played a small part in that - they realized that not all women look "hot" in a white, wet t-shirt...

So, tell me, what was your most mortifying moment in public? How have you made a complete ass out of yourself while the entire world was watching?