Secrets are for suckers.

Dearest Daughters,

At a family party, I was recently giving my eldest niece a VERY hard time about her boyfriend. That's neither here nor there.

But, the conversation compelled Lola to declare, accusingly, "BUT! YOU SLEPT ON A PARK BENCH!"

This fact is something I've shared with the Internet. And, I mean, I knew that the friends and family who read this blog knew about my transgressions. But, there's this whole Internet-Real Life etiquette, where we all silently acknowledge that everyone knows I ate Target popcorn for lunch because of the photo I posted to FacebookTwitterThingamajig, but we don't actually talk about it in real life.

Because the conversation would kind of go like this:

    Them: So, I saw that you slept on a park bench in Brazil?

    Me: Um, yup. So the story goes.

    [awkward pause]

    Them: So, um, cool. I guess?

In general Status Updates are not a great place to start a conversation, unless you're like: "Dude, I totally slept on a park bench too!"

It's become sort of a you-know-that-I-know-that-you-know-that-we-all-know kind of world.

So, when Lola declared her shock a full three months after I posted the Infamous story, it was a "I knew she knew, but I didn't know she knew knew" moment.

And I blushed with embarrassment and shame, getting defensive, like, Mother, that is the Least of your Worries!

Which was true, because now there's this:

( I like to call this "An Unfortunate Series of Events and Wardrobe Choices")

Your Uncle Bruce wrote a mildly interesting post on his Super Famous blog about the whole To Post Drunk Photos or Not To Post Drunk Photos debate.

And both of us are sort of in the business of Honesty, Authenticity and Vulnerability. That's what this blog is about, at least.

So, my Dearest Daughters, yes, the rumors are true.

I went to Wellesley College. It happened to be in a dry town. And the school had a strict alcohol policy. Which amounted to "if you're 21, you may drink behind closed doors." So, we put on hideous outfits. And I attempted to pop my collar, a West Coast girl never quite fitting in to the New England Prep scene. We got drunk in our dorm rooms amongst a circle of close friends. Hoisted our L.L. Bean monogrammed tote bags over our shoulders and, in our buzzed genius-iosity, pretended to steal dorm hallway adornments. Only to replace them two seconds after taking a photo of the event. (We also had a fairly functional honor code, so there was no reason to cross that line.) Then, we probably went back to our rooms to watch Love Actually. And cry about how we would never meet ANYONE who loved us. EVER.

Then, the naked pillow fights. Obviously.

The number of times in my life that I got what you could call "wasted" can be counted on one hand. If it had six fingers. And more than half of those times were in the safety of a dorm room at Wellesley College or in the company of my family.

Bam! Take that Make Good Choices Lola!

Whew. I feel so much better.

Share a secret today! Was it you who ate half a bottle of Tums in Mommy's closet? And did you really lose your Hello Kitty lip balm or did you eat it all? And what's the real reason you poop in your panties? Come on? Because it's warm, right?

I knew it!

Love,

Comments

[Mommy (not yours, but theirs)]

To be honest, I can't recall where this happened. It's all a bit blurry. Because of the shot, maybe?

[Scarlett Loomas]

Was that Calissa's room?

[Auntie Lynne]

This absolutely happened to me over Thanksgiving. The Adams family was talking about Wellesley's Campus Po and their generally benevolent ways, and I had to go and say: "I never had a party that was busted by Campus Police." My mother pointed out to me that that was patently untrue, as I had told her myself that Campus Po busted my 21st birthday party.

So yes. I expect this to be brought up at inopportune times throughout the rest of my life.