8 Walks Of Shame More Shameful Than Any Sex Walk Of Shame



Nothing makes you feel like more of a fat slob than shuffling down the street with a heavy bag of trash-food and coming across a gym. And because gyms are decidedly sadistic, they’ll probably have treadmills in windows facing the street, leaving you nearly face-to-face with your polar opposites. You’ll glance over only to see sculpted machines all probably training for some marathon to raise money for a disease you’re currently building towards with your McNugget bag, creating a miserable, shame-filled 20-25 footsteps. Sure, those 50 nuggets only cost 9.99, but you can’t put a price on the humiliation you’ve just endured.




Movies are insanely overpriced these days, so the last thing a movie-viewing patron wants is some small bladdered chump trying to scooch by them, mid action sequence. You can say as many “Sorry!”s as you want on your way out of the aisle, but they’re judging you, and they’re hating you. And then when they’ve finally forgotten all about your nuisance, here you are COMING BACK and they have to do a round two. TWO rounds of shame. Embarrassing. And so help you God if you’re now holding a beverage.



One of the more common walks of shame that I’m sure we’ve all experienced. There you are, outside, heading to your next destination, when an all of a sudden the heavens release a tropical storm atop your being. Now you’re left with the choice of either embracing the rain and showing up to your next stop looking like some gross wet-dog/human hybrid, or trying to use whatever objects you have handy to cover your head. A book? The back of your coat? Whatever you choose will look dumb, but you’ll find solace in spotting a handful of other idiots who didn’t plan for the weather either, while you hustle your way along.




Elevators are simple: you push a button for your floor, you get off on that floor. Hard to mess that up. But occasionally, you’ll spot someone who can’t follow two easy steps. Maybe they’ll be on their phone, or just up in their own head, but either way, they’ll mindlessly make their way onto a foreign floor. Within seconds, they’ll stop abruptly, look around with a look of fear like you’ve never seen bestow a human’s face, and either try to re-enter a closing elevator or accept their fate and wait for the next one. It’s really not that big of a deal, but still embarrassing and shameful nonetheless.





So you’ve gathered all your grocery items and need to go to the checkout, but the aisle you were about to turn down is packed with people. Fine, not a problem. You’ll just go down the next one. Blindly, you take that turn quickly and before you know it, you’re surrounded by mountains of tampons and diapers. Wall-to-wall. 10 feet high. EVERYWHERE. You cannot escape these tampons and diapers. If you’re a woman, not a big deal. If you’re someone with a baby, cool, and congrats on the baby. But if you’re neither, you’re left with a very tense remainder of the aisle to walk down, hoping no one spots you in there. Why? You don’t know why, but you WANT OUT.




There’s nothing better than going to a live sporting event with your friends. It’s fun, it’s relaxing, it’s just an all-in-all good time. That is, until your team loses. Now you’re left to file out of the stadium in 7 pieces of loser apparel, parading around town as a mascot for failure. And the more important the game, the more shaming of a walk. And if you’re in the opposing teams stadium and your team loses? Wow. Hope you’re ready for the loudest form of shaming in the form of other fan’s drunken insults, or the ultimate, having group chants started about how much you suck. So much shame.





The only thing worse than waiting in a line to use the bathroom is when you thought you were going in for a quick-stop and had an emergency change of plans. Sure, it may have been an emergency, but your relief will be short-lived. You’ll leave the bathroom and immediately be confronted by the remainder of the line. A LINE OF PEOPLE YOU MOST LIKELY KNOW. They’ll know what you were doing. They’ll smell what you were doing. They’ll not invite you to the next party because of what you were doing.





Fuck. Well. I guess it’s not technically a walk of shame if you climb out the window?


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