The Gift of Awkwardness

9 May

Given my daily awkwardness (it may be getting worse with age?), I often joke with family and friends that it is my gift to them. This usually elicits a different response from people. For example, my sister rolls her eyes whereas my parents stare at me blankly (probably wondering where they went wrong in raising me?). And men… well, the men just walk away. {cough}

Except there was one day…one glorious day…while at University in which my awkwardness became a gift – literally!

Despite the fact that my dorm mate, Allie, and I lived an hour and a half away from University, her mother sent her weekly care packages. Each carefully selected item came individually wrapped in brown butcher paper. My mom’s care package consisted of her shoving a half-ton of Kraft Easy Mac into my overnight bag. Look, I get it. It sounds practical and delicious. But once you’ve eaten it twice a day every day for the better part of a semester you will never want to eat it again!

We were now nearing the end of our first semester at University and finals were upon us. All the girls in our dorm were stressed out. Not to mention I think our menstrual cycles had synced up. The usual cattiness level had escalated from Ermahgerd to Claw-your-eyes-out. I was terrified!

In a show of support during this difficult time, Allie’s mom sent the biggest care package I had ever seen. As she tore through the box, butcher paper rained down on us. I attempted to ignore her in order to study for my finals, but the allure of the care package was too much.

Must…see…inside…ohmygodshegotpoprocks!

Once the excitement of the care package (and sugar-high from the pop rocks) wore off, we were left with a mess. As usual, I began to kick Allie’s mess to her side of the room while straightening my side for the nth time that evening. That’s when Allie devised a way to get rid of the paper AND get me to do it for her. Of course, I didn’t realize that’s what it was at the time…

A photograph of me wrapped as a gift exists somewhere, but I cannot find it.  However, this is a fair representation.

A photograph of me wrapped as a gift exists somewhere, but I cannot find it. However, this is a fair representation.

She suggested we use the butcher paper to dress me up as a giant present so that we could give the girls a laugh while also giving them a break from studying. Before I could say anything, Allie had already wrapped me up like a mummy, complete with Christmas bows.

Me: “Allie, I can’t see! Cut me some eye holes.”

Allie: “No! Half the fun is guessing who is inside the present. Don’t worry. I’ll guide you down the hall.”

Me: “Ok, but don’t make me run into walls or anything.”

Allie: {giggling}

Me: “Allie!”

Allie: “Oh my gosh, I woooooon’t.”

Me: {Begin bouncing down the hall because Allie bound my legs too tight. Immediately run into a wall} “Allie!!”

Allie: {faint giggling}

Me: {Begin bouncing again; run face-first into a door}

Allie: “Whoops! I didn’t mean to make you do that this time.”

Me: {Angrily mumbling to myself under 12 layers of impermeable butcher paper}

The routine involved Allie knocking on a door, singing a Christmas carol, and I would do a sort of awkward, bouncy dance. Then we would both shout “happy finals” and move on to the next room.

After about the 10th room, the inadequate air hole somewhere behind my right ear was no longer sufficient. I was beginning to black out. Allie grabbed onto the protrusion most closely resembling my left elbow and quick-bounced me back to our room.

In the end, we made an entire hall of hormonal, stressed out young women laugh so hard they nearly wet themselves. Or so I was told. I don’t know. I couldn’t really see anything.

You’re welcome, ladies.

 

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