When I was a fifteen year old girl involved in barrel racing along with ten other girls my age, I came up with an idea for a bet: whoever completed a pattern in the longest amount of time would be forced to wear a short Santa girl dress with white fluffy feathers at the bottom plus big black high heels and then the loser would have to sit dressed like that as a rodeo spectator for an hour. The bet was quickly accepted and I obviously thought I'd be the one laughing as I wasn't the worst one in the group by any means. Unfortunately, my pride was my downfall - I was the slowest one this time.

After a long chase, I was finally caught and my barrel racing clothes were removed by force with me kicking and screaming like never before as I was looking at the girls and kept begging them for mercy. Begging for mercy didn't help and I was rushed to watch the rodeo with people staring at me all the time. I thought I could survive the ordeal without any comments but I soon heard snickers and talks about 'white blondies.' I didn't want to stand up and leave because people were all around me. I just sat there with my cheeks burning and my heart pounding. I got a taste of my own medicine as I became a laughing stock for the next three years to come.