In the history of me, there have been not-my-finest-moment (nmfm) moments:

-I got my tongue stuck in my braces. True story. Didn’t think it was possible, did you? It is. Oh, and my parents tried, unsuccessfully, for one hour, to get my tongue off of my braces. Finally, after calling the dentist at his home in the middle of dinner, I sat down in the chair at the dentist’s office, removed the towel from my face and my tongue came unstuck from my braces. WTF?

-Or the time I was getting into our car in Milwaukee and my pants split so loud, Frank heard it. And he was on the other side of the car. Outside. With the door closed.

-Or the many head injuries I obtained in fast pitch softball. One ball to the temple (a line drive throw to third – this, ladies, is why we wear helmets…) and at least two to the mouth (when catching pop flies, it’s best to catch them in your mitt…).

-Or the time I sliced my toe open on the CTA while on my way to a client meeting. That was awesome. I tried to clean up in the bathroom and my director walked in to blood all over the sink. As she was gagging and trying not to look at the unsightly mess, she wisely said, “Emily, I think you should get a tetanus shot.” So off to the ER I went. But I walked because I only had enough cash to go one way. And of course, didn’t want to ask for money. Or stop at an ATM.

I could go on. But my therapist advises against it.

The important thing is I established a pattern of unique ways of embarrassing myself.

And I suspect that since I haven’t done anything too detrimental to my ego lately, I am due. What will it be? A sudden rain storm while wearing white? A banana peel on the steps of my new place of employment?

Bring it on.