Weddingbee Blog

Let me just put this out there: I’m a total weirdo. There’s so many things I do that I absolutely would never tell anyone else on the planet (except Mr Trail Mix, since he lives with me and knows about most of them) but, in keeping with the sharing spirit of the holidays, I came up with a few little secrets I’m willing to divulge…

Source

Um, YUM!!!!

One: I occasionally (and by occasionally I mean frequently) eat either cereal or ice cream for dinner. The cereal is not a healthy, Kashi-esque type either, it’s usually Cinnamon Toast Crunch or Frosted Flakes, etc. And the ice cream is typically Ben and Jerry’s.

So, obviously, that’s kind of an embarrassing secret given that I am 27 years old but here’s the real kicker: I teach a freakin’ Wellness class to kindergartners and first graders. So I stand up in front of 5-year-olds every day and talk about the importance of portion control and eating fruits and veggies at every meal but the truth is, my diet is junk. Believe me, the irony is not lost on any us…

OK, that’s one, here’s Number Two (literally…OMG, cannot believe I’m about to tell you guys this story…): One time in college, I took such a big poop that I passed out cold on the toilet seat in the communal bathroom in my dorm and my hall mates called the EMTs. Said EMTs rode an ambulance, complete with sirens blaring to my dorm, examined me thoroughly and then announced to my entire dorm population (who had gathered because of all the commotion) that the reason I passed out was due to the “size of the bowel movement.” Worst. Moment. of my Entire. Life.

And finally, number three: I’m a picker. I pick my scabs, I pick my dry scalp, I pick my hangnails, I pick my zits, I can’t leave anything alone, I pick pick pick pick. Now you’re totally grossed out, right? Yeah, I am too…It’s a nasty habit I can’t seem to quit. Blech.

So hopefully I haven’t sent too many of you lovely readers running for the hills in disgust over the weirdo who somehow managed to become a Weddingbee blogger, so let’s even the score. Tell me, please, before I die of embarrassment over secret number two: what’s your most embarrassing secret?