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Friday, 14 January 2011
"Oh my God," she said "I used to drink that when I was about 17."
I watched her for a moment and as the smile spread across her face... clearly she was re-playing the days of her mis-spent youth in her head. A pang of jealousy gripped my body... I wanted to feel a similar jolt of nostalgia.
My eyes immediately scanned the shelves, searching for a familiar bottle, until they stopped... resting upon the clear glass bottle with the the red and silver label.
In a moment of madness I turned to Mum and laughed. Without thinking the words just fell out of my mouth...
"See that," I replied pointing to the 1/4 bottle of Smirnoff Vodka*, "When we were 15, me and Emma used to buy one of them between us and get a can of Coke each to wash it down with." I even went so far as to follow my announcement with a little giggle.
*Clearly I was earning way to much money at the age of 15 - Smirnoff Vodka? - I can't even afford that now and I'm 28! The £3.10 minimum wage was really providing quite a luxurious life for the wayward part-time working 15 year old's of the 1990s!
Mum just stared back at me and my nostalgic moment turned in to sadness. I swear I saw my Mum break a little bit inside.
Sh*t, why did I say that? Why did I tell my Mum that I drank Vodka...Why did I have to specifiy that I was 15... and why did I feel the need to elaborate with the can of coke? A can of Coke - like the coke made a difference... all that did was clarify how irresponsible I used to be. What an idiot.
Mum looked so disappointed. Maybe she had thought for all these years that she had managed to stop me from doing the inevitable teenage drinking thing and now I had come clambering through the smoke screen with my confession and burst her bubble.
No, she's not stupid, she clearly already knew that I used to drink on the odd occasion but still...in hindsight those words should probably not have left my mouth.
Clearly my brain did not process the 'noooooooo.... don't tell your Mum that' signal yesterday. (This became even more apparent later in the day when I announced that someone had sent me an 'adult toy' in the hope that Id review it on here. Why would I ever went to tell my mum that!? - even more worrying was her reply "Ooooh what? Like a Rampant Rabbit?" I stopped the conversation there and then!)
After the initial shock of the vodka revelation we soon returned to our normal mother daughter banter and later, as we walked through the town centre, my mum recalled a similar incident with her mother in which my Nan had said to her "You wait until you have your own children - then you'll know what it's like!"
Back home, I began to think of all the other things I'd done that my mother did not know about ...there's quite a list.. but I feel if that if I confess a few naughties to you now then maybe... just maybe... my mouth won't feel the need to share them with my mum next time we are out shopping. I'll let you know if it works.
At this point I feel like I should say that although my confessions may seem like the tales of a naughty teen, I was in fact quite the opposite. I did well at school, I lived in a nice area and my parents were (are) extremely loving and supportive. I was just a normal teenage girl, no stresses or worries, I was just having what I though was 'innocent fun' - I know worrying isn't it - I don't think I'm ever going to let my kids out on their own!
So anyway..here goes...
My friends probably only ever attended half of their PE lessons in the entire last 2 years of school. This is because, upon request, I would write each of them a letter from their mum saying that they had a sore leg/back/arm* delete as appropriate and would not be able to partake in the days sporting activities, which in short meant that they could sit in the common room and read magazines for an hour instead of losing their limbs to frost bite.
This was all thanks to my incredibly brilliant forgery of my own mothers handwriting although 12 years on, I am still unsure as to how this fake letter scheme was not uncovered by the teachers - clearly every childs mother did not possess the same handwriting.
When I was 16 my Dad bought a document scanner for our PC. Despite being told not to touch it (and not wanting to lose those incredible forgery skills that I had gained in my previous confession) I managed to scan my passport and make a fake 'photocopy ID' by cutting out the tiny numbers on various copies and re-creating my date of birth to appear as though I was old enough to consume the devils drink (not just on the main DOB section either - even in the funny code bit at the bottom of the passport).
On seeing my clever handy work and my subsequent easy access to Barcardi in the local 'we know your underage but will serve you if you have a fake ID' pub, I then preceded to take orders from around 10 friends to make further fake IDs using their photos and the same scanner.
Finally, Confession #4
One night when we were 16 and I was staying over at a friends house we headed out on the bus with said fake IDs for night a clubbing in Southport. Great plan - except we didn't realise that 'real' people only went out at about 10 o'clock so when we arrived at 'The Dungeon' night club at about 7.00pm and strolled inside in our mini skirts they weren't even open yet. We were - not surprisingly - laughed out of the place by the cleaning staff and we never ever returned - even when we were old enough to drink.
So there you have it - my first confessions of a grown-up teenager - I'm sure there will be more! Do you have any to share - it'll make you feel better I promise - and no doub give us a good laugh too!
Posted by Leanne Nash at 14:58