Mortifying March: THE WINNER, And The Rest

Hey y’all! Thanks for submitting to our MORTIFYING MARCH contest. We had a great response and one horrifying story that was deemed the winner by myself and Letty. The winner will receive a mystery box, and when I actually put it together I’ll post a pic on our Facebook page. Anyway, here we go. We even submitted our own stories because we’re fearless. The winner is posted last, because it’s the best.

A says:

I went on a couple dates with this guy and we decided to seal the deal, so I grabbed a condom. This guy was abnormally small in stature but so am I, so I figured it might work. I pulled down his boxers and I felt like I was about to change a baby’s diaper. IT was so small.  I gave him a chance though, and we started to do it. We went to change positions and his dick just came out of the condom and the condom just stayed inside me. He blamed it on me being too small to handle him, then asked me out again the next day like nothing happened!

Another A, who is a brave sort, sent us a picture with her submission!

When I was in 7th grade for whatever reason these platform type shoes were in style. I think it was a 70s revival flashback style courtesy of D*Lite or something (groove IS in the heart). So I was chubby and awkward and I was so lucky to wear a size 6 shoe. Anyone who knows about shoe stores knows they typically use size 6 as the display size– so I found this bitchin’ pair of white platform shoes and took them from the display and proudly put them on my feet– that is, until my top heavy-ness toppled me to the ground. I not only fell– right there in the middle of Bakker shoes, but I also took two whole display cases with me. Imagine my horror when I looked up from the shoetastrophe to see 3 of the most popular girls in school standing there, mouths agape.
I ran out of that store faster than you’d ever seen me run anywhere. This is why I still refuse to wear high heels. :(
The dream of the 90s is alive in this picture

The dream of the 90s is alive in this picture

Here’s Kolleen’s story:

It’s hard for me to think of an embarrassing story because I’m pretty perfect in every way. But once, back in 2000, I was hanging out with a really good friend of mine and I was trying to act as though I had a lot of movie knowledge (he’s a big movie guy). So he suggested we watch Sling Blade which I had never seen. Now you have to think that in 2000 Billy Bob Thornton was married to Angelina Jolie and they were both very heroin chic at the time.

So we watched Sling Blade and when the movie ended I turned to my friend and said, “I thought Billy Bob Thornton was in this movie.” And he looked at me like I was the biggest idiot. Because, if you don’t k now, BILLY BOB THORNTON IS IN LITERALLY EVERY SCENE OF THE MOVIE. He was just fatter back then. Oh god, I never lived it down. It embarrasses me to this day.

I reckon you’re not very bright

Here is Letty’s tale of woe:

Guh, I have so many embarrassing stories, because I am a beautiful, beautiful fuck up, but this is one of my favorites.  When I was junior in high school, I was painfully in love with this soccer player named Ryan. I was a trainer, so that meant that I went to all the soccer games, and wrapped ankles and gave water when needed and shit.  I used to love watching Ryan play,  he was so dreamy, and looked like a stallion when he ran up and down the field.  I would have cut off my left tit just to hold his hand.  So I did what any reasonable 16 year old girl would do, I resorted to magic.

I bought the Little Book of Love Spells and I was convinced that I could charm this popular senior, stud of a boy into falling in love with me.  I waited until the moon was right, and performed my spell. To complete the spell, I had to give the object of my affection a shell to symbolize my womanhood or something.  It took me FOREVER to find a shell in my house, even though we went to the beach all the time. But I finally found a tiny white shell and I was ready for him to fall in love.

The next day after soccer practice I nervously approached him in the training room while he was icing his knee.  He was a captive audience!  I gave him my best braces filled smiled and told him how great I thought he’d been doing on the field and some other sad, awkward ramblings that I have blocked from my memory.  He seem unimpressed.  Then I told him that I had a little something for him for good luck and I placed the shell in his hand.  With barely even a glance, he chunked the shell as hard as he possibly could across the room.  I stood there with my mouth hanging open for a second before I screeched, “Why did you do that, it was a shell!”  He said, “Oh, I thought it was a piece of chewed gum.”  Needless to say, we didn’t make a love connection as I was too embarrassed to ever talk to him again.  But that’s okay, I looked him up on Facebook recently and he is totally fat now.

And now… THE WINNER of our MORTIFYING MARCH CONTEST!

L says: 

I used to be a dancer at a fully nude strip club. Classy, I know. It is my firm belief that if most strip club patrons spent a minute behind the scenes in the dressing room, they’d never be able to be aroused by a stripper again. All sorts of decidedly non-demure things happen there: girls squatting down to carefully trim their tampon strings, sharing gross stories (“I was giving this guy a private dance and I had to fart SO bad … eventually I just had to pull this move where I got up and twirled away, then blasted one in the opposite direction and hoped he couldn’t smell it.”), bending over and spreading ‘em in front of a mirror to make sure nothing undesirable is clinging to their lady bits … it can get pretty ugly.

Anyway, one day I was dancing on stage and these two guys kept giggling and whispering to each other. I was annoyed, but managed to ignore them. One can only expect so much maturity in an establishment where women flash their hoo-hahs for crinkled dollar bills. After I got off stage, it occurred to me: I had forgotten to do my mirror-check. Holding my breath, I positioned my back to the mirror, bent over and looked back. Sure enough I discovered that, while I had been rolling around on stage, seductively stretching my legs apart and giving my best “come hither” stare, there had been (glowing brightly beneath the black lights) a thin shred of toilet paper pasted to my vag.

stripper strippers

And there you have it folks! Thank you L for your horrifying story. Thank you all for submitting!  We really appreciate all of our readers!  Look for pictures of our awesome prize box on our Facebook page.  We will be having more contests as the year goes on. Stay tuned for some long overdue updates!

One response »

  1. Pingback: I Have No Shame: My Embarrassing Story | Making Love With Her Ego

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