Also, I was obliged to be outside -- by my wife and the dogs. Less than a week after it snowed, we had 82 degrees Fahrenheit. It was so nice, I actually put on shorts.
Me. Shorts. That may not seem momentous, but only me wearing mandals would be as shocking.
Me. Shorts. That may not seem momentous, but only me wearing mandals would be as shocking.
I have never liked shorts. Not sure why. Mosquitoes love me, and sun burns me, and my knees were always getting skinned as a kid, so long pants offered more protection. Also, I always need pockets, and shorts used to only have either no pockets, lame pockets, or goofy old-man pockets, at least before cargo shorts became big.
Anyway, I am known to wear long pants all summer long. Consequently, my legs are so ridiculously white only the American Academy of Dermatology would say they looked healthy. As in this picture:
You think I exaggerate? Well according to StyleCraze, "During the Elizabethan age a pale complexion was considered as a sign of good health and prestige. Poor people could not achieve such complexion due to the burden of going out and working hard for their living, resulting in a tan. Wealthy women to gain such a complexion used several different things; the commonest way was to use Ceruse, a foundation made from mixing the poisonous white lead and vinegar. Many people preferred to apply tin ash, sulphur, alum, etc."
Those Elizabethan ladies would have said my legs were too white. "My goodness, get some sun, old chap."
Japanese women famously use methods to try to whiten their skin, and they'd say my fish-belly legs are too white.
The rest of me gets enough sun to pink up a little, but not my legs. I told my wife that the police made me come back inside because the glare from my legs was blinding drivers.
In fact, I wrote this haiku in honor of the Japanese skin-whitening ladies:
My legs are so white
The kids down the street thought it
Was snowing again
The shorts are in the washing machine as I write this, making the roads safe once more.
My legs are so white
The kids down the street thought it
Was snowing again
The shorts are in the washing machine as I write this, making the roads safe once more.
4 comments:
It is supposed to be hot and humid today (my least favorite weather) so shorts are a must for my morning walk - but only for comfort. My fish belly white thighs are alien-worthy, especially when combined with the spindly birdlike stems below the knees (I'm down 15 pounds since my staircase adventure - a lousy weight-loss methodology). I'll carry little containers of eye bleach to soothe the passers-by who are subject to this ghastly apparition - as well as one for Mrs. Mongo. Hopefully, Animal Control won't be tempted to round me up!
I'm wearing my cargo shorts right now, and it's getting close to the season when I can wear shorts every day.
They're just more comfortable than long pants.
I am light complected naturally due to being half Irish. My dermatologist reminds me that skin cancer incidence is highest among people of Irish descent. If she had her way, I wouldn't leave the house except in full burqa.
Mongo should match his walking shorts with a nice pair of black dress socks and Birkenstock sandals (if he isn't already), that will draw attention away from the white pipe cleaner stems. Consider wearing garters with the socks.
Growing up in the 60s and 70s almost no one wore shorts, now it is standard dress for guys my age.
I get the Irish half's whiteness without sun. A little extra sun and I am a California native in no time. Adios gringo.
You boys hit on an interesting tidbit -- when I was a kid, the old men were described as having pants up to their nipples, suspenders, straw fedoras, neckties, and socks -- and that was on the beach. Now the older guys I know don't seem to even have a tie to wear when a friend dies. How did this happen so fast?
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