artificial insemination kit for humans
I attended an all-girls high school in the 1990s. It was a place that challenged us academically while also equipping us with a well-rounded education aimed at nurturing future leaders and successful women. After four years filled with learning and friendships, the senior class received a survey for superlatives. I was an average student; I never really took my studies seriously, so the title of Most Likely to Succeed was out of reach for me. I didn’t have the best hair or host the biggest parties, and I certainly wasn’t destined to be president or star in a soap opera. I thought of myself as just another face in the crowd. Turns out, I was completely mistaken.
When the summer ended, I picked up my yearbook and flipped through the pages, reliving the memories of my time at SJA. Then I reached the senior page. As I scanned the superlatives, most of them seemed accurate. But I wasn’t prepared to see my name there. And there it was, bold and clear: Class Clown — Jenna Miller. I was absolutely stunned!
How could I explain this to my parents? “Don’t worry, your investment in my education wasn’t in vain. I assure you, I’ll excel in college. Trust me, I’m just as surprised as you are.” And honestly, I was. I was shocked. However, as I thought back on my high school years, I realized I did have my fair share of amusing antics that might have led my classmates to label me as a bit of a troublemaker.
Perhaps “troublemaker” isn’t the right term. I didn’t mess things up; I just made them more entertaining than they needed to be. For example, one day while we were having lunch outside, aggressive geese invaded our area. As I was walking to find my friends, one of those feisty birds squawked at me. So, I did what anyone would do when confronted by a predator: I turned and ran, screaming. That little guy chased me down and managed to bite my thigh right through my plaid skirt.
Getting bitten by a goose is unfortunate, but to perform such a spectacle in front of hundreds of students enjoying their lunch? Now that’s next level. It was like a live show starring a frantic girl and a fierce bird. I could have won an award for that performance! And the antics didn’t stop there.
In chorus class, where snacks were strictly forbidden, I was often late. One afternoon, I rushed in chomping on some Bubble Yum. My favorite teacher caught me and asked, “Jenna, are you chewing gum?” Without thinking, I blurted out, “No, sir, it’s an appetite suppressant.” The room erupted in laughter as he shook his head in disbelief.
Then there was that classic moment when I slipped on a banana peel someone had left on the floor. I didn’t see it coming, and when I went flying, I laughed so hard I ended up wetting my pants right there in front of everyone. The more I recall these situations, the more it all falls into place.
As I’ve grown older, my penchant for clowning around hasn’t diminished. I still find myself in ridiculous situations, but now I share those stories online so others can relate. For instance, have you ever had to rush into Target in your silly purple owl pajamas because your newly potty-trained daughter declared she had an emergency? That was me!
And exercise? Not my favorite hobby, except for my long-standing obsession with Richard Simmons. I even made my mom take a day off work just to meet him at a discount store, and I sobbed like a baby when he arrived. My whole school found out about it, which might explain my class clown title. Years later, I took my newborn son to meet him, and I’ve been doing his workouts for 25 years—until I tore my meniscus doing “Sweatin’ to the Oldies.” Yes, you read that right: my love for Richard Simmons led to surgery.
Who else has these kinds of things happen? Just me, apparently.
During a family trip to Disney World a couple of summers back, I experienced a wardrobe malfunction of epic proportions. As we posed for a picture in front of the castle, my bra decided to give up, and all four hooks popped at once. There I stood, with my 38Gs in free fall at the happiest place on earth. What’s a girl to do? Head to first aid, of course! But first, I had to grab a Disney photographer to snap a picture of the moment. For the record, it only takes twelve safety pins to keep everything together after a bra explosion.
Now at 42, I see no signs of my clowning behavior slowing down. It’s a well-established pattern, and there’s no changing this old dog’s tricks. So if you spot me at Starbucks in my nightgown, just know there’s a story behind it. I might not have time to chat then, but you can catch all the details on my social media later. Oh, and about that time I knocked over an entire display of Pringles at Sam’s Club? Totally not my fault. Someday, I’ll share the real story.
Summary
From high school antics that earned her the title of Class Clown to adult misadventures shared on social media, Jenna Miller reflects on her life filled with humor and unexpected moments. Whether it’s getting chased by geese or wardrobe malfunctions at Disney, her knack for entertaining situations remains unchanged as she embraces her clownish ways well into her 40s.