Confessions of a Sox Addict
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Some women have closets full of Tommy, Vera Wang, or even Kate Smith....the same blouse in five different shades of white, enough black slacks to stretch across America, or fancy dresses that they have worn once and never will again.
Some, like my daughter, have dozens of pairs of shoes....shoes for jeans that are too short, shoes for jeans that are too long, pointy shoes, square shoes, black shoes, tan shoes, plaid shoes with black skulls all over them, spike heel kick *** shoes, and on and on.
I admit that I like...I NEED...socks. Socks, socks, and more socks. I just can't get enough. I have enough Christmas socks that I can wear a different pair EVERY DAY from Thanksgiving until January 1, when I switch to my fireworks and party hat socks. On Dec. 14, I wear my special "Happy Birthday" socks. During the summer there's the fun pina colada socks, and oh so many more.
Why do I like socks so much?
Socks don't care. That's why. They don't care that my toe fat hangs over if I try on little strappy sandals (toe fat is definitely NOT a cute thing. Who'da known that you can actually pinch an inch on your little piggy if you try hard enough? No strappy little sandals for me!) They cover up the unsightly scar on the left ankle, caused by two surgeries. They stretch oh so nicely to fit snugly but not restrainingly, unlike the traitorous blue jeans.
Socks make me happy. While my usual mode of dress includes blue jeans (or flannel pj pants when at home), a baggy sweat shirt or t-shirt, weather permitting, and a pair of cross-trainers, my socks can be totally outrageous. There's just a hint of my wild side showing through when I pick out the day's footwear. Bras & panties are the industrial-strength variety, definitely on the boring and sturdy side, but ohhhhhh my socks......
I like to think that a year from now, when I'm a svelte size seven (realistically, I'll never be a five again, and every time my sister says she can't find any size zeros to fit I want to snap off her head, so I'll be happy with a seven) I will still be true to my socks. Perhaps the closet will hold more than the dark blues, grays, and blacks that are so predominate. I may even have more than four pairs of shoes, because I presume my Fred Flintstone-like feet will slim down. I may Even go CRAZY, and get some wild hats. But my dear, dear socks, the socks that love me unconditionally, will always hold a place in my heart...and in my drawers!