This post, from November 16, 2011, brings a smile to my face every time I remember that day. It took awhile to get to the place where I could smile, but a few years…and a little maturing…helped.
My mom was having a big birthday party for me! Including a genuine, honest-to-goodness bakery cake! In our family that was quite a treat because all birthday cakes began with Betty Crocker, and ended with some icky decorating frosting that came out of a tube. But a bakery cake? Never. Those rare treats were only enjoyed at graduations and wedding receptions.
But not that year…
It was my fifteenth birthday, and it was the same year I had a major crush on a handsome, talented singer. The same year I wrote awful, mushy, sickeningly sweet stuff about him in my diary. Regularly.
The crush paled, though, in light of the cake – and the fact that most of our extended family would be coming to the house for my birthday.
I waited on pins and needles for Mom to get home from the bakery, and shadowed her every move, until she set the large box on the counter and opened the lid. It was beautiful. Until I read…
‘Happy Birthday, Krispy’
Kinda how I felt when I saw Krispy…
Clearly whoever took the phone order had been in desperate need of hearing aids. Being a hormonal teenager, I nearly cried in humiliation. The cake needed to be returned…or the party cancelled. Neither option was meant to be. Mom simply took a butter knife from the silverware drawer and carefully removed the ‘py’ so the cake read, Happy Birthday, Kris.
Now it’s not that I’m a stranger to the nickname, but for as long as I can recall I wouldn’t need all five fingers on one hand to count the number of times people have called me Kris in any given year. However…it did beat Krispy all to pieces. But the cake went down a notch or two in the special department.
Fast forward a few hours. All of the guests had arrived and were having a good time, enjoying the ruined cake, as well as the good company (I have a very cool family). About then, from the open stairway, I hear some familiar words being recited…at the top of my oldest younger brother’s lungs. He and two male cousins had sneaked into my bedroom, found my diary…and were announcing to everyone that I was in love with the singer.
Definitely a birthday to remember…for all of the wrong reasons.
Through the years people have forgotten about the diary part of that day (thank you, God!). On the other hand, I haven’t managed to live the whole cake thing down. I blame my sister for this, because it’s her husband and sons who continue to call me Krispy/Aunt Krispy.
But that’s okay. I can be very patient. Someday an opportunity will present itself – and then it will be time for paybacks.
What was the most humiliating experience during your teenage life?
Psst! Did you hear about my new secret group on Facebook? It’s so secret you won’t be able to find it no matter how hard you look. In fact, the only people who will find it are those who have subscribed to my newsletter (http://kristykjames.net/newsletter/), and who send me an email or Facebook message letting me know they’d like to join. That way I can send an email invitation.
Why a secret group? I thought it would be a fun place to just chat and get to know one another. Yes, I’m still a teenager at heart. I’ve always liked the secret clubhouse kind of thing. They always seemed so mysterious and exclusive.