Unfortunately, the weather ignored my hopes for a beautiful spring night. When my boyfriend and I left church after the service, winter's chill stubbornly clung to the night air. Still shivering after getting inside, I tried to burrow my frigid feet into the cushions of his couch, realizing that I had pulled my spring outfit and fragile sandals out of the closet way too early.
"Do you have some socks?" I finally asked, unable to bear the cold any longer. I laughed at the huge pair of Nike socks he tossed me for my miniature feet. But I didn't mind. I pulled them on as he asked, "Are you hungry? I haven't had any supper yet."
"I'm hungry too," I answered, "but where can we go?" My small hometown didn't have a lot of options.
"We could go to the Flavor Isle," he suggested, an old-fashioned burger and ice cream joint with the walk-up outdoor window for placing carry-out orders.
"Okay!" I agreed quickly. Since he planned to get out and order the food so I could stay in the warm truck, I said, "I'm leaving these socks on then. No one will see me," and I slipped my adorable, size 5 1/2 sandals over the white pair of bulky men's socks. The heels of the socks hung out from under the back straps of my sandals. He laughed when he looked at my feminine, pretty outfit comprised with the delicate sandals and men's socks. "It's okay," I assured him with a wave of my hand. "No one will see me in your truck, and I'm just so cold."
We headed down Main Street of the dark, quiet town and quickly approached our destination.
"Hey, there are no lights on," he observed. "I think they've already closed."
"Closed?!" I exclaimed. "On a Friday night?!" But sure enough, the little burger and ice cream joint was black and locked up. No mini-burgers or milkshakes for us that night.
"Where else can we go?" I wondered out loud and rubbed my growling stomach. We drove on down the street, crossed the railroad tracks, and debated our limited options.
"Hey!" he enthusiastically interjected, "why don't we go to Donita's Diner? We could just go inside to eat and relax, instead of trying to find something fast to take back home?"
"Yeah..." I agreed as my mouth began watering at the thought of fried country food just inside the doors of the casual, little diner.
We walked inside and were immediately greeted with warm waves and calls of, "Hey, come sit with us!" as other members of the church had also decided to enjoy a late supper at the crowded restaurant. I waved excitedly back at them and began walking across the floor when...
"OH...NO..." I groaned in horror under my breath, walking in the middle of a room full of people with the bright lights of the diner shining down on me. "I forgot about the socks!" I whisper-screamed to my date as, in embarrassment, I made my way across the room to the table. The straps of my sandals ran between my toes and around the back of my heel. When I had put them on with my spring attire that evening, the white-and-gold braided color of the straps looked royal, like something a princess might wear, if a princess ever wore sandals. Or even a queen. But they didn't look royal anymore, with the heels of the huge men's socks gaping out under the back straps and dragging the floor, and the toes of the socks scrunched up under my toe straps. Those self-conscious steps I walked across the restaurant seemed to last forever.
How do you get out of a situation like that? I could go to the bathroom and take the socks off, but that would require more walking in front of everyone in the restaurant, and I was already mortified. I slid hurriedly down into the chair awaiting me and whispered to the woman sitting beside me, "Cindy, I'm such a dork. My feet were cold, so I put on his socks and forgot to take them off before I came in." Her eyes immediately glanced to my feet with the baggy men's socks scrunched under my beautiful sandals just below my neatly-pressed dress pants, and she burst out laughing---laughing 'til she almost cried.
Trying to seem as unaffected as possible, I reached under the table, felt for a foot, and tried to appear cool and indifferent as I discreetly slipped off my sandals and removed the humongous male socks while people all around me sat eating their dinners. They had probably seen people take their shoes and socks off under the tables in restaurants all the time, right? I stuffed the offensive socks inside my purse and tried to pretend the eyes and amused nearby glances had nothing to do with me.
Remember the fashion phase that began several years ago when some men started wearing socks with sandals? I bet I started that. Those men in the diner who were checking out my feet may have gotten some ideas. Not that I liked the men's sock-and-sandal look, but let me tell you...that probably isn't as atrocious as I looked that night. Dress a girl up in a pretty spring outfit with dainty, strappy 5.5-sized sandals, then bury her feet in a pair of men's size 12 Nike socks, scrunch those under the little feminine sandals and check THAT out. That is one spring look you will remember forever.
Believe me...
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