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By on Sep 21, 2011

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I can’t believe that it is already Wednesday which made me think on the past few days and where they have gone. Then I took it a step further and wondered where my weekend went, only to be reminded of the most awkward experience ever. It’s right up there with farting in class then masking it with fake fart noises. It’s neck and neck with getting clonked on the forehead by an icicle when you and your friends scattered to dodge it and it’s a close tie with excreting strange bodily fluids in front of strangers during childbirth. Yes! This happening was far worse and left me feeling…a queasy-kind-of-awkwardness.

On Sunday Phil, Zoe and I decided to pack up and hang out with the extended family. It’s always a nice visit punctuated with food, a few laughs and…a movie. Sunday’s Netflix Movie Pick was “Black Swan,” which Phil and I had already seen in the comforts of our home, but were happy to oblige our Aunts and watch it again. Though the movie had already been picked, I co-signed for the movie saying “It’s a great movie,” “We hated for it to end,” “You’re definitely going to like it,” etc. etc. But, what I hadn’t remembered was that there were explicit scenes of self-loving and girl-on-girl action. Yikes!
Now truth be told, the movie was certainly milder than most of today’s movies. There wasn’t a ton of blood and gore, nor seriously vulgar language, and truthfully, I could count the explicit scenes. Still, watching any movie besides Mary Poppins with your seasoned aunts, cousin, husband and baby girl makes for some seriously awkward moments. At times I’d wished I could merge with the wall, or dust off my teleporting skills. Funny remarks about the scenes only made them worse and intensified my prayer for Zoe (who was playing happily in my arms) to have a complete melt-down and send me racing out of the room.
Now, maybe it’s just me, but ever since adolescence I could never shake the uncomfortable feelings associated with talking or (in this case) viewing sex. I sometimes even blush at my husbands proposals from time to time and we’ve made a baby! It’s not that I’m a prude or anything, and I’m probably not the most chaste or modest person you’ve met, but there is something about it that makes me feel… a queasy-kind-of-awkwardness.
I know that at some point Zoe will begin to put the pieces together, since our brave new world doesn’t lend itself to preserving innocence, and I’ll have to explain the birds and the bees to her. Will she be squirmy and uncomfortable during our Mommy/Daughter chat? I don’t know. Will she go running from the room as a teenager or as an adult if some explicit scene invades our television? I don’t know. Will I go running from the room? Probably so!
Not sure where this leaves me. I suppose I can press the delete button on this memory and perhaps even clear the caches. But something tells me that I haven’t seen the last of this queasy-kind-of-awkwardness.
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