So, I was given Pretty in Plaid for mother's day. Back in May. And I started reading it right away. Now, I'm not sure what has gone on in the world, but the days do not contain enough hours. Some of them are being sucked out and I'm not sure where they are going. I am concerned that I might be repeatedly abducted by aliens. Daily. I have not taken this long to finish a book in a very long time. And it was a book that I never wanted to put down. But for my own (and everyone else's) safety I had to. Two hours of sleep a night puts my own life and the lives of the general public at great risk. I drive a very boring 45 minute commute each day. My car doesn't have cruise control for a reason. No cruise = no snooze. (most of the time)
But, the book was hilarious, as expected. So, in the spirit of Pretty in Plaid, I am posting my own wardrobe inspired childhood story.
I was in the second grade and discovering the joys of fashion. Fluorescent shirts were all the rage and I had several, thanks to a mother who loved to sew. So, it was a Friday and on Friday's we were allowed to choose a record to bring into school to listen to at the end of the day. I think I was the very last kid on the list and I was so eagerly awaiting my moment of musical glory. Every Friday for the entire year, every girl in our class had brought in the song "Mickey" by Blondie. And, every Friday everyone cheered for the song choice. I had waited almost half of the school year to show my classmates that I was as cool as everyone else and woke up that morning with a spring in my step. I couldn't wait for everyone in the second grade to see that I was super cool. And to illustrate my super-cool status, I carefully chose my outfit for the day. Jeans paired with a top to stop traffic. White turtleneck under an adorable duck print blouse (collar popped) under a bright yellow fluorescent sweatshirt. Oh, yes, the entire second grade would be bowing at my feet by the end of the day. This was going to be the best Friday ever.
So, I set off for school in my fabulous outfit with my Blondie record under my arm and a big smile on my face. I was standing in line before school started when someone asked, "who's bringing in music today?" I remained silent, but felt the exhilaration of anticipation building inside of me. Best day ever was happening now. I made it into school, possibly floating, and sat in my seat. Things went smoothly until it was time for gym class. Gym class always allowed us to mill around a chat with each other while things were set up. Nick, the coolest boy in the class (who also possessed a real streak of evil) came over to me. "Hey, Shanon, why do you have 3 shirts on?" "Um, because it's cool," I responded. I was already sensing a change in my days greatness. Stupid Nick had now brought negative attention to my triple shirt decision. Some of the other kids started laughing. "What are you? An Eskimo?" I heard someone say, laughing. "It's not that cold in gym class," another kid muttered. "Why are you wearing 3 shirts?" my friend asked me discretely. "I think I look cool," I seethed at her. "You might be wrong," she tole me. I hate Nick! HATE! If gym class weren't my least favorite class of the day, I would totally chuck a ball at his head. But due to my lack of gym class skills, any ball I chucked in his direction would surely land on the teacher's head instead and result in further humiliation for me. So, I sucked it up and hated him silently. The day continued without further incident, but I resolved never to wear my awesome triple shirt to school again. Finally, the end of the day arrived, and the teacher asked for the record I had brought in. My moment of glory was now going to be restored. I walked to the back of the room and retrieved my Mickey record out of my backpack and proudly walked to the front of the class to hand it over. "What did you bring?" someone asked. I turned around and showed the front of the record. A low groan rolled over the class. "Not that again!" Nick yelled from the back of the room. I turned back to the teacher and handed over my record and went back to my seat. A brief second later, Nick was nothing but a smoldering pile of ash on the floor. I had called upon the Thunderbolt Kid (Bill Bryson's The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid) and he had unleashed his powers upon Nick. Sadly, Nick learned a moment too late, that you do not laugh at Shannon on her triple shirt wearing musical moment of glory day. "Hey, Nickie, you not so fine!"