It was Funky Sock day yesterday. It was the day when you were supposed to wear bright and crazy socks to draw attention to World Down Syndrome day. And, in case you missed the boat, World Down Syndrome Day is day to celebrate all the amazing individuals who are thriving and making our lives better by having an extra chromosome.
So, of course, I forgot to buy my long funky socks. I couldn't find my Color Run socks, which are bright, funky and long. But at 5:30 in the morning, I also didn't do a super-thorough reconnaissance mission.
I possibly threw them out from being stretched from my enormous porkchops, er I mean, calves. My calves are genetically larger than most. Everyone in my family's calves are like this, and subsequently our tube socks start like a tube and end up looking like a tuba after just a few wears. The good news is I could tiptoe up the Great Wall of China. The bad news is, I can only wear ankle socks.
Anyway, I couldn't find my Color Run socks, and I only have ankle socks, and even those are glaringly white and un-funky. So I did what any normal parent would do on Funky Sock day at 5:40 in the morning: I raided my daughter's sock drawer.
I'm sure I don't need to remind you that my daughter is 6 years old and is no where near the same size in feet as my size 10.5s. But I truly figured I could take like, 3 pairs of her socks, cut out the toes and then sew them together...
Yeah. That didn't happen, either. I found a pair from Ardene (which is Canadian for Claire's) that were supposed to be for women, but after one wash would be for kids, and squeezed my foot into them, Cinderella's-Step-Sister style.
But, since I have huge feet, these socks that normally would go up mid-calf only (barely) reached my ankle. Not to be deterred, I decided I'd have to show off my socks by wearing my flip flops.
Oh yes, I was showing love for World Down Syndrome day come hell or high water.
I jammed my cramped foot into my sandals, smooshing the toe-thing between my sock-wearing, already constricted toes, and decided to suck it up. All my students wondered why I was wearing socks with sandals; my colleagues wondered why I was limping around like a geisha.
But I did it! I wore the shit outta those funky socks. And when I was making the rounds on my indoor lunch duty, one of the grade 7 girls looked down at my feet and then up at me. Then she said, "Ms Sunny, you have camel-toe."
I stopped dead in my tracks. I didn't know whether to check my pants or just pretend it never happened. I looked at her face for a clue -- was she being sincere? Or was she mocking me?
It was sincere.
I stopped and looked at her. Then I glanced from side to side. "Sorry?" I asked. She said, without missing a beat, "You've got camel toe!" and her friend beside her smacked her arm and said, "Shh! That's not what it's called!" And I said, "Um, I do not think you mean what you're saying." And she then realized what she'd said and turned bright red. Gesturing wildly at my feet, she said "No! NO! I mean your feet look like camel toe. I mean, you have camel toe on your feet. I mean your sandals and socks look like..."
And the two girls dissolved into giggles. I smiled awkwardly and left the room.
The next three trips up and down the hallway into different classrooms ended in that Grade 7 room with the three of us working really hard not to make eye-contact. I confiscated a giant green ball, a soccer ball, sent another kid to the office with a bloody nose, and two other kids to the office to call home for clean jeans, but all the while I was secretly giggling and shaking my head.
I told the kids to settle down and that recess was almost upon them. I walked a last time to the Grade 7 room where Camel-Toe-Clarissa asked me, this time, why I had two big balls.
I giggled, got my composure, and said "Clarissa, I think we need to just not talk to each other today."
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