Dialogue: At least I don't blush any more

By ROANNE PARKER

When was the last time you were embarrassed? Perhaps you are particularly heavy and have left a string of broken chairs and loo seats behind you like Goldilocks or the nice dad I met on a school trip last month.

Being a teenager with any kind of parent at all is one long embarrassment. Thank goodness blushing seems to be affected by the ageing process. I haven't had a good blush for yonks. Whatever had you cringing most recently, you should remember that we have all been there.

It is my observation that one of the great things about children is that the way they come into the world strips you of any dignity you ever had, and as a consequence your threshold for public humiliation is quite high.

Which is good, because there is lots of public humiliation with kids - like walking across 50 sq km of shiny white floors in the departure terminal of Melbourne airport holding the hand of a 2-year-old who is leaving a 60cm wide trail of diarrhoea behind her as it spills out of her pants and into her shoes (of course the bags are already checked in so there aren't any spares) and past the gorgeous chicks at the check-in counter, while the poor wee thing screams loudly so as to ensure everyone is looking.

And the pair of 2-year-olds, one of whom was mine, who sat themselves prettily on the chairs up the front reserved for Mary and Joseph in the church nativity play we were about to watch, then proceeded to tuck their skirts up over their heads and reveal to the entire congregation that they had divested themselves of their knickers.

Or the day I was sitting on the sofa with the investment guru from the bank, who had come with her impeccable suit and gracious manner to explain a few things to me. It was witching hour, about 5 pm, and the kids were hungry and grotty and I should have known better, but we all know hindsight is 20:20.

Anyway, Miss Four decided she had enough of this woman taking all the attention away from her and she managed to get into my handbag and find a tampon. She then paraded back and forwards saying, "Hey, lady, do you know what this is? It goes up there!" while helpfully illustrating her words with gestures - over and over again.

It seemed like hours but I guess it was 20 seconds or so before I found my feet, popped her into the next room and threatened through those clenched teeth mums save for such occasions that she would never see daylight again if she didn't sit down and draw a picture - NOW!

It is ironic that the things which embarrass us most are the things we feel make us different - I am the only one here who ever farts loudly when I least expect it - when really they tend to be the things which show that we are all the same.

The reason you laughed at me and my loud fart escaping was because you were just so relieved it wasn't happening to you. A bit of humility crossed with good humour can remind us that, whatever we would like to think of ourselves or of others, we share those unpredictable imperfections that make us human.

What's the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you? It's such a pubescent question, isn't it? I remember comparing notes in the toilets in Standard 4.

But it's e-mail that's revolutionising the way we laugh at others, letting us spread the mortifying events from the lives of people we will never meet to a thousand of our closest friends. Just ask the poor woman whose apres sex missive to her bedmate made its way from his PC to squillions of computers worldwide, turning her into the year's most unlikely celeb.

Speaking of embarrassing, it's time to finish off the goldfish saga for the Logan family and all of the animal rights groups who have shown such misdirected concern since I admitted I hadn't been great at assisting my previous goldfish to long and fulfilled lives.

I discovered with the help of an Italian phrasebook that I had the pump set to filter 200 gallons of water. Since our tank holds closer to 20, I just turned it from speed cinque to speed uno and, hey presto, the rapids are gone, the fish are feeding and all six are still alive and looking very happy with their lot, thank you very much.

Yes, I am embarrassed that I didn't notice the little switch and wrote a whole column about this weird whirlpool phenomenon - and aren't you pleased it was me not you?