Shame? Oh, let me paint you a picture of pure humiliation. Back in my childhood, my own mother would blow up condoms—yes, freaking condoms—and hand them over to me as makeshift balloons to parade around the neighborhood. Can you even imagine the kind of nickname I was slapped with until 9th grade? Take a wild, dirty guess! 😢
#humiliation #childhoodtrauma #wtf #cringe

Summer of 2005. I’m just a scrawny kid with a jacked-up gut (constipation dragging on for a week or two, no less). Mom hands me some laxative, says, “Go play outside,” like that’s not a recipe for disaster. What could possibly go wrong, right? :) Nah, I didn’t shit myself on the street, but damn, it got close. The urge hit me like a freight train, so I bolted home, sweating bullets, waiting forever for Mom to buzz me in through the intercom, then for the freaking elevator to show up...

And guess what? I couldn’t hold it. I wasn’t about to ruin my undies, so as the inevitable started slipping out, I yanked ‘em down and unleashed a steaming pile—right in front of the elevator door. The very second that turd hit the concrete with a glorious thud, the elevator doors slid open, and there they were: three pairs of stunned, gorgeous eyes staring right at me in absolute horror.

Drop a 👍 if you wanna hear about the time I took a dump in a bulletproof vest, smack in the middle of the road during winter.
#epicfail #shithappens #cringemoment #childhoodtrauma