Go see Tova for details on Awkward Tuesday:
During my junior year of college, I went to a Lutheran retreat in Atlanta, GA. The majority of our group was under the age of 18, thus we had to have adult chaperones.
(C'mon, think about it. 17-year olds at a religion convention? If you ever went to one, you know God and the Bible are generally the last thing on anyone's mind. Trust me, supervision is a necessity.)
For my church's group, we had three main chaperones. My own mother and my best friend's mom were two of those chaperones.
My friends and I were psyched. Our mom's were cool enough to know that we didn't really want to attend to every single Praise Jesus function that was offered. We wanted to see Atlanta, flirt with some boys, and get some religion in on the side. What can I say? We were teenagers.
So stop judging.
The last chaperone was...um...less cool. In fact, looking back, I'm not entirely confident she was playing with a full deck. Though nice enough, she really, truly had no business trying to chaperone a group of 10 teenagers.
Look, she wasn't mean or anything. She just didn't really fit in with the group. She wore Tweety Bird t-shirts and bicycle shorts. Like, the spandex ones.
All. The. Time.
But, being the devout Lutherans that we were, we all tried to include her and her son in the planning of the group retreat. And typically, anything super annoying that Tweets or her son said could be ignored and looked past.
One Sunday afternoon, a few days before the trip, the whole clan got together to finalize details for the convention. As we all sat there discussing how much fun we were destined to have, someone brought up packing for the trip.
It went something like this:
Mom: We have so much stuff to get in our suitcases for the week! How will we do it?
Best Friend: I know! I have 8 pairs of shoes! And I have to have room for the shopping we'll be doing.
Me: I don't care if I have to carry them on the plane, I am NOT going to Atlanta without my new Doc Martens. They're so heavy and huge, but I HAVE TO HAVE THEM!!
(remember, this was 1998. Doc's were the shiznit back then.)
Best Friend's Mom: Well, we must remember to bring stuff for emergencies. Girls, if you're going to be having a monthly problem, better be sure to prepare!
All of us: (laughter and jokes all around) Ha ha! Ew! Gross. Ha ha! Hee Hee!
Tweets: Oh yes, that reminds me! I forgot I need to go to Walgreen's. I need to get some yeast infection cream. All that walking we'll be doing is going to make it awful rough on me! Ha ha! Hopefully there'll be bathrooms so I can reapply as necessary! Right? Right?
(intense desire to puke all around)
Mom: (clapping hands) All right! Where should we eat for dinner on Saturday when we arrive?
First of all, the majority of those in attendance were 17 years old or younger. Half of us (including myself) thought a yeast infection had something to do with bread mix gone bad.
(Of course, after that little incident, you bet your cat's pajamas I was on the Internet looking it up.)
(Word to the wise - don't let your daughter find out what a yeast infection is over the Internet. The scars will never heal.)
Second of all, why in the name of Jesus, Mary or Joseph would you discuss a nanner infection with your SON PRESENT???
I get that Tweets felt like we were all having a "girl" talk, but did she forget her adolescent MALE child was sitting next to us?
You must have boundaries, people.
I would die if Hubs decided to discuss his raging jock itch while our daughters were within 5 miles of us.
(No, Hubs does not have jock itch. I'm just exampling.)
Lastly, discussing the rash/burning/itch/odor of your girlie parts due to anything (least of all yeast)is just better left off the table.
Leave the yeasty cream talk to your diary.
And then burn after writing.