When You Dare Wear Short Shorts

I had this random memory the other day. And it was a funny memory. So, I thought I’d share it here with you.

One time, when I was still living at home with my parents, I was pilfering through the garage. And I don’t know if you’ve seen my Pa’s garage, but there are so many treasures in there. Just so many. It’s mostly full of golf clubs, but there are a few other things like old books, and old dishes, and old socks, and old tools, and old clothes. Oh, and at the time, there were like a ca-trillion of those plastic gallon ice cream buckets, just in case they were needed to store various other old things. (No need to google the number “ca-trillion”. I just made it up.)

Photo credit

Actually, my parents have cleaned out their garage like 5 times since then, but I’m pretty sure it’s still full of golf clubs and few old socks.

(Dear parents, please forgive me for exposing the contents of your garage. I hope you don’t mind.)

Anyways, so one day I discovered this neat old box with neat old clothes. And I guess I’ve always been fond of old clothes, so I picked a few favorites out and brought them in the house. And amongst the old clothes was this one pair of baby blue shorts. And by shorts, I mean shorts. Complete with the little slit up the sides and some pinstripes.

So, I decided it would be fun to put those short shorts on and prance around the house while making fun of my mother for wearing such atrociously short things. After all, this was the same mother who so feverishly tried to instill in me a sense of modesty. And these shorts were not modest. They were not modest at all.

So, I sported the baby blues with pinstripes around the house and scoffed at my dear mother for raising me one way while she had clearly lived another. And it was all fun and games until she informed me that those were not her shorts. And I was still smirking  until she informed me that those were my Dad’s shorts back in the day. And that they were actually his swimming trunks and that’s why they had that mesh lining in them.

And then I threw up in my mouth a little. (Okay, not really, but I was appalled.) And I couldn’t wait to get those things off. And I never wore them again. I could barely even stand to look at them, the visual was just too much.

And I dearly love my Pa but whenever I have an unwanted flashback of him in his baby blue pintripes, I have to excuse myself. And then I go to my happy place until it’s safe to come out again.

Thank you for listening.

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