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A few days ago, I found a pair of cycling pants that I'd worn ten or so years ago when I used to ride the bike to work. They're what's called a "relaxed fit" - which is good because I've gained about 15 pounds since the last time I wore them. Anyway, since I have no money and need some sort of athletic wear for my daily fitness walk, I tried them on and stood in front of the mirror in the upstairs hallway.
I should have left it at that. You know, expelled a sigh of resignation, propped up my ego with something lame like, "They'll look OK after I've been walking for a month or so," and found some way to accidentally but fatally damage the offending mirror. However - and I swear it's the Hydrocodone that's been affecting my judgement lately - I called my youngest daughter from her room and asked - this is a direct quote - "Do these make me look dorky?"
Which, as everyone in the English-speaking world knows is the male equivalent of that dreaded female query, "Does this make my a** look fat?" (As in, "Does standing next to this Boeing 747 make my a** look fat?") However, as everyone also knows, the answer is very different if the man is asking the woman as opposed to the woman asking the man.
If the man is asked, he's automatically on that risky highwire between cleverly evasive and blatently untruthful. For generations, that's been the stock-in-trade of situational comedy. On the other hand, my daughter responded like she'd just passed her finals in gender etiquette. She stepped out of her room, glanced quickly at the fashion outrage confronting her, and said, "Yup, dorky."
Having pondered this for a day or so, I concluded that I'd probably looked dorky in them when I was cycling, too. So when I found several more pairs in the basement, I laundered them and brought them upstairs. And I was wearing them this morning when I added a fourth lap to my daily walk at the high school track.
Chances are, I'll also be wearing them when I go shopping at Wegman's later today. So, if you're offended by dorky, just save yourself the aggravation and don't bother to look...
I should have left it at that. You know, expelled a sigh of resignation, propped up my ego with something lame like, "They'll look OK after I've been walking for a month or so," and found some way to accidentally but fatally damage the offending mirror. However - and I swear it's the Hydrocodone that's been affecting my judgement lately - I called my youngest daughter from her room and asked - this is a direct quote - "Do these make me look dorky?"
Which, as everyone in the English-speaking world knows is the male equivalent of that dreaded female query, "Does this make my a** look fat?" (As in, "Does standing next to this Boeing 747 make my a** look fat?") However, as everyone also knows, the answer is very different if the man is asking the woman as opposed to the woman asking the man.
If the man is asked, he's automatically on that risky highwire between cleverly evasive and blatently untruthful. For generations, that's been the stock-in-trade of situational comedy. On the other hand, my daughter responded like she'd just passed her finals in gender etiquette. She stepped out of her room, glanced quickly at the fashion outrage confronting her, and said, "Yup, dorky."
Having pondered this for a day or so, I concluded that I'd probably looked dorky in them when I was cycling, too. So when I found several more pairs in the basement, I laundered them and brought them upstairs. And I was wearing them this morning when I added a fourth lap to my daily walk at the high school track.
Chances are, I'll also be wearing them when I go shopping at Wegman's later today. So, if you're offended by dorky, just save yourself the aggravation and don't bother to look...
