When you are a teenager in a small town, you soon learn you can’t keep secrets from your parents.
Or, maybe that was just me….
I remember pretty much the one time in my life when I got a little wild and ended up played strip poker in the L…n’s livingroom (honest, Diane, I wouldn’t ever do it again—you did know your kids had a party or two, right? And I was over 18-–by a few months).
Poker isn’t my best game. I lost my shirt. Literally! And exited to the hot tub before my blouse hit the floor.
The next day, my dad eyed me sternly and told me that his friends who lived next door to the L…n’s had almost called the police. “Honest, Dad, it didn’t get crazy.”
He lowered his eyebrows at me and said, “I heard you went skinnydipping.”
My mouth fell open, “Buttt, iiiittt wass… uh, you know, just for a sh..sh..short bit. I … lost at strip poker and I had to…uh… you know…”
From the look on his face I knew he had just been joking. I hadn’t been in trouble before but now I was truly busted!
Me and my big mouth.