The Penguin Walk     Jacquie McTaggart     © Copyright 2004 by Jacquie McTaggart

It was a beautiful, unseasonably warm November morning in Iowa. Intent on making the most of the glorious weather, I jumped out of bed and headed for the shower. As the water cascaded over my body, I mentally planned my day. I would write my weekly newspaper column (the one that would rival Dave Barry’s wit and wisdom), do some laundry, and fix Hubby a gourmet bowl of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese for lunch. If all went as planned, I would reward myself by reading my most recent book purchase - How to Lose 50 Pounds in Four Days.

Eager to accomplish everything on my agenda, I dressed quickly. After putting on clean underwear and a fresh shirt, I decided to throw on yesterday’s jeans. They were lying right there on the floor – nice and close – and weren’t really dirty. Yes, they did have a teeny-tiny blueberry stain on one knee, but nobody would notice that. And furthermore, I had just lost 3 pounds (a result of fourteen diuretic pills) and figured I had better wear those jeans while I could still get into them.

The morning unfolded uneventfully, and I accomplished my tasks on schedule. As I put the last bowl from lunch into the dishwasher, I suddenly remembered that I needed to drop my column off at the newspaper office. I decided to incorporate that task with a quick stop at Wal Mart. (I was out of diuretic pills). THEN I would grab a bowl of ice cream, curl up in the recliner, and learn how to take off those last 47 pounds - without dieting or exercising!

It was at Wal Mart, midway between the toilet tissue and the double AA batteries that I felt it. In the right leg of my jeans, directly above the knee, was a BIG lump – all squishy and misshapen. I knew immediately what the problem was. One of my socks must have gotten stuck in the leg of my jeans when I undressed the night before, and taken up semi-permanent residence there. I had NO idea where that stupid sock had been hiding all morning, but I now knew exactly where it was.

Walking like a constipated penguin, I gingerly made my way to the nearest checkout counter. With every step I took, the sock inched downward. As I was about to drown in my own perspiration, a cashier - located eight aisles from the exit door - bellowed, “Mam, I can help you down here.”

Oh, my! What should I do? I couldn’t magically make myself invisible because I hadn’t lost those 50 pounds – yet. Consequently, I slowly - very slowly - waddled to her station, paid for my purchase, and proceeded toward the exit. Once outside the door, I bent down, reached under my pant leg, and pulled out a pair of UNDERPANTS!

Moral of the Story: Avoid putting on yesterday’s apparel. You never know what might lurk inside, or when it will choose to reappear.
 
 

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