Saturday night I attended an annual ladies night fund raiser for a charity that supports families that have children with cancer. This group is near and dear to our hearts since they embraced my sweet SIL Cathy and her family when our niece was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
This year the theme was country & western. Y’all.
I agonized over what to wear, knowing that line dancing would be involved. I wisely chose my jeans that have a good deal of built-in stretch to them. And add to that a lavender polyester button down, which did nothing for my figure, but did make me sweat like a dying pig.
Which in retrospect, may have helped my figure after all.
I was, however, horrified to discover that this Texas girl had absolutely NO cowboy boots in her closet. I have a vague memory of throwing out all shoes and boots that reminded me that my feet DID INDEED SWELL A SIZE LARGER WITH EACH PREGNANCY. And then stayed that way.
Old wives tale my……..foot.
Sneakers were out of the question, because during the Boot Scootin’ Boogie I was certain to scuff the floor with my Adidas. So, this was what I emerged from my closet wearing on my feet.
These beauties are Crocs, my friends. I KNOW! Crocs has greatly evolved from the hot pink clown shoes I started with all those years ago!
The only foreseeable issue was that I’m not use to wearing 3 inch heels. Much less walking in them. And DANCING.
The last time I attempted to wear these to a function, Fiddledaddy wisely talked me out of it, after noting that we don’t have quite enough insurance to cover an extended hospital visit, should I be in need of traction.
But Fiddledaddy was not home when I was preparing for the evenings festivities. So I was on my own to make unfettered decisions concerning my footwear.
All went well during the first part of the evening. I performed the electric slide without breaking a femur. Or dislocated a hip.
When we were all settled into our seats, like sardines, the games began. There were prizes, y’all. And some were quite wonderful. But there was a bit of a competition at hand.
And y’all know how competitive I can be.
The MC called out an item, and if we could locate that item in our purse, and be the first up to the front with said item, then a prize was won.
I quietly berated myself for having cleaned out my purse the day before.
NOW THAT YIELDED A TREASURE TROVE.
After a few items were called out (one being a flask…which, no, I did not have) I heard the MC say “Does anyone have with them, a TAPE MEASURE?”
My heart stopped. In my head I heard myself say, “YES, YES I do!” However, another competitor said it out loud and rushed the front of the room.
However, she brought her purse with her, and was frantically digging through it. In the meantime, I had pulled out my tape measure (which is attached to my key chain) and was making a mad dash to the front as well.
But as luck would have it, just as I reached the front, a spindly chair leg became entangled in my shoe, and I began the long descent to the floor.
I couldn’t catch myself, because I had the tape measure held high in the air. So, as if in slow motion, down down down I went. Until I was face down on the linoleum. (Which if truth be told, is not an unusual location for me.)
I knew I’d never make it back up to my platformed feet in time, so I army crawled. Still holding up the tape measure. I made it up to me knees and passed the competitor, still digging in her purse. SUCKER!
It was then that I noticed I had sliced open my texting finger with the metal edge of the tape measure.
But it was totally worth it.
Because this is what I won.
(Cue the crickets)
Okay, it’s a really cute purse and all. But not my, um, style. I go for the type of purse that you can stash a blender in, and no one is the wiser.
I tried to give it to my daughter. The one whose mantra is “the more bling, the better.” No takers.
Luckily, the next item asked for was a sewing kit. Which I considered borrowing. To stitch up my texting finger. A nearby woman took pity on me and gave me a bandage from her own purse for my wound.
A battle scar, that I’ll forever carry with honor.
The evening was seriously redeemed for me during a drawing, when I also won a basket that contained a bottle of Pineapple Rum. Which I figured would be useful in erasing the embarrassment of skidding to a stop on my face. In front of hundreds of women.
All in all, we had a wonderful time. And lots of money was raised to help cancer families in need.
And next year? I’m hoping the theme will be sports related because I’m going with the sneakers. And football pads.