Horny Harry’s House Of Ill Repute How May I Help You

This is usually one of  the go to lines in the Amelio household when we answer calls who have their numbers listed as “private”. They usually turn out to be telemarketers (apologies to nice telemarketers out there), or weird prank calls resulting in silence and/or heavy breathing. So we try to beat them to the punch.  And usually they give up after a short while.

Blogger Of Repute Ill Or Not

But on to the topic matter. Do I have a reputation? I don’t know if I have a reputation today… but I know I had a reputation when I was a teenage girl. In fact I had four reputations. In my home town, or my neighborhood to be more precise, I used to be known as a “Pete’s little outspoken sister.” The fact that Pete wasn’t my real brother didn’t bother anyone. Likewise, the fact that I was the same age as all the other kids in the crowd didn’t mean much either. I was one of the 3 other girls who hung around with the neighborhood boys and nobody was allowed to mess with either one of us. Pete was protective of us. Among them, I was never afraid to speak my mind or to put someone in their place. And they put up with all my shenanigans.

When People Read You The Wrong Way

In my school (which was in a different part of town), I used to be known as geeky and shy. I was a straight A student, and a lot of kids excluded me from their crowds because of it.

Demi Moore Wannabe?

And now we come to my third reputation. The one I hated the most. It was linked to one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. And earned me a not so nice reputation of  a …. wait for it… “STRIPPER”. You see, I used to spend my summers at my grandparents’ house at the sea. (That sounds so fancy… but it really wasn’t). What else are you supposed to do when you’re at the sea other than go to the beach each and every day? Exactly. So to the beach I went. And on one of those particularly hot summer days when everyone (and by everyone I mean that cute boy I had my eye on for third summer in row) was at the beach, and I was just starting to sprout into my womanhood (ahem… get your mind out of the gutter and put it in the sewer where it belongs please). I got out of the water after a nice, long swim, and decided to change my swim suit, because that’s how it’s done in Croatia. If you don’t, bad ju-ju will happen. Trust me.

I wrapped myself into my beach towel and started this unbelievably complicated process of changing and trying to keep my towel firmly wrapped around me. The cute boy and his friends (all 15 of them) sat on the bench across from where my friend and I had our towels. (Sadly we did not have changing rooms/places available at the beaches of Croatia back then… shortly after this incident they started to pop up all over the place) I forgot to include one little thing into the equation. It was a windy day. I was chatting with my best friend. Multitasking was not my thing back then. Can you see where this is heading? In the middle of it all the wind tore the towel off me, which proceeded to slap my best friend straight into her face, and I started to panic. My best friend tried to salvage the situation by handing me the towel and wrapping it around me, and in the midst of my panic I was prancing around trying to wrap it around myself. Needless to say, that caused even more ruckus. I remember people near by giggling, my friend screaming at me to calm the eff down and the cute boy’s friends laughing and pointing. He (was he trying to be a gentleman? Or was I that appalling?) put a towel over his head.

I finally managed to wrap the towel back around me, but not before my panic mode caused me to do a full 360 turn giving everyone a clear shot view. My face was redder than a fully ripened tomato. I finished changing and rushed home. That’s how embarrassed I was. Alas it was already too late because that little anecdote was apparently the top news for years to come.As I would meet new people, who also happened to meet some of the locals, (meaning the cute boy’s friends and cute boy himself) it wasn’t too long before an inevitable question would pop up: “Ooooh so you’re The Stripper”.

After high school was over and I started college I didn’t really have a reputation. I didn’t really mind that either because I was tired of the associated labels. I didn’t want to be known as “that shy geeky girl” or “Pete’s little outspoken sister” or “The Stripper”. I just wanted to be me.

The Mail Ordered Bride

Then I met my second husband. (I swear when I say second it sounds like I am going to have a third and a forth and a…. *shudders*) Since he is American, and I am Croatian, some of his “friends” labeled me as a “mail-ordered bride”. Because we met online (a story for another time perhaps?). At first it bothered me. A lot. He didn’t order me online, I did not come in an envelope and I most certainly did NOT marry him for the Green Card. Then I realized something. If they were his real friends, they would only care about his happiness, and they would get to know me, before making any assumptions about me. And somehow I stopped caring. We know what happened and how we came to be as a couple. That should be the only thing that matters.

The same can be said about reputation. No matter what you do or where you go, you will always have some kind of a reputation. How you take it, depends on the type of person you are. But always remember that people who matter most will know the real you and that should be more important than worrying about what some stranger you will never meet again will think of you.

If I could choose what kind of reputation I would like, than I would to conclude this post with the following song:

**As a part of Zero To Hero Challenge and inspired by today’s Daily Prompt

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18 thoughts on “Horny Harry’s House Of Ill Repute How May I Help You

  1. Great post. I remember the days of my youth when I went from geek to bad boy, and everything in between. I have always tried to be kind and giving, I soon found out that people will put a label on you no matter what. When I learned that I stopped caring what other people thought of me and just did my own thing.

    • I am trying very hard to be that kind of person, not caring what others will think. Sadly, it’s somehow ingrained in me… in Croatia you can often hear “What will the neighbors think?”. Coming to USA was liberating in that way. It just seemed (at least with my husband’s family) it doesn’t really matter what the neighbors think. And my experiences taught me that in all those circumstances when I didn’t care what people thought I fared better than when I was stressing what will they think. Trying to keep that mindset here in Croatia is proving to be challenging.

      • I can understand that, and believe me there is no shortage of people here in the US that constantly worry about what others think of them. I found, for me anyway, that the trick is just to live your life, be kind, and don’t worry about the small stuff.

  2. What’s hilarious is I got your tag for the award thing… and wrote the post to be published tomorrow… For the part where it asked what song best fit me, I chose Bitch, same as you.

  3. The reason that all of these reputations are spectacular, is that they were ammo for my now new favorite post here. You, go girl! You shy, nerdy stripper of an envelope bride. Big brother Pete would be proud 😀

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