Thursday, May 7, 2009

The Consequences of Childhood Insecurities

I am five feet, nine inches tall. If I were a guy, that would be considered on the short side. Since I'm not a guy, I'm considered to be on the tall side, and have been so since elementary school. Well, except for my junior high years, when the other girls caught up to me for a while. (The junior high years. They're such an anomoly. I wish I could have just skipped them altogether...)

Anyway, if you, too, were on the tall side growing up, you - like me - had to wear floods far more often than your fragile psyche approved of. (You know, floods: pants that were most unfashionably several inches higher than the tops of your shoes.) I was so relieved when the early 80's rolled around, and it became the "it" thing in our school to wear funky striped socks with jeans rolled clear up to our knees. And when the legwarmer-with-jeans thing came into style, well, it was a beautiful thing. In fact, I think capris were invented by tall people who endured the ridicule of having to wear floods during their formative years. 

So, ever since I started making my own way in the world, I've made sure that every single pair of pants I buy comes clear down to the tops of my shoes. And if they actually drag the ground some...even better. And when laundry days come, I stretch every single pair of pants as long as I can every time they come out of the washer, then hang them on a rack to dry. It is the ultimate in flood insurance.

Which brings me to this morning. It's rainy here on the East Coast. Really, really, really rainy. So I pulled on my comfy, well-worn, and impressively long walking-to-the-bus-stop sweatpants, and the kiddos and I dutifully dodged puddles and tiptoed through the minefield of worms that cover the road between home and bus stop. Then I dutifully picked my way back through the puddles and worms as I headed back home. 

As soon as I got in the door, I kicked off my shoes and headed downstairs to grapple yet again with The Little White Insulting Box. After firing everything up, I walked back to stand on the Wii Fit board and looked down for a moment to steel myself against another round of insults, and...

Wait...

What is that?

Well, it seems that fabulously long, flood-insured pants actually do have a bit of a downside: there on the carpet wriggled a very bewildered worm that unwittingly hitched a ride inside Chez Wheedleton courtesy of the hem of my ground-dragging pants.

And I don't care. I will never wear floods again.

Bring it on, worms! 



2 comments:

  1. When I was a newlywed (and poor!) I had to wear a pair of flood jeans to work 2-3 times a week for at least a year, because new jeans didn't grow on trees.

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  2. Thank you Kim , for prayers for my sister.
    I fully expect to see you published someday. You know , I keep sending mine off and they keep writing back that mine would make good stand up comedy. I guess I need to learn to write differently , but I try to tell it like if I was talking to someone. Guess THEY don't like that!

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