B is for Cookie

For the second time in as many years spring has pulled a fast one on me. One morning each year my sleepy eyes are blinded by sunlight and in the afternoon my pasty skin absorbs as much uv as possible while the winter hair on my legs blows in the soft, welcome breeze. Life is good. Skirts are worn. But then the nighttime cometh; it encroaches almost unnoticed under the guise of hot summer nights buried in your brain as year-old nostalgia and anticipation for the coming season. When the cold air sets in my bare skin gets covered in geesebumps and I start to shiver like Michael J in a freezer. Too soon? Well I like to Rush jokes. Limbaugh style.

Luckily, each year when I'm caught off guard a charming, generous, slightly slender young man lends me a pair of pants so that I don't freeze off my bits. This is really in his best interest, but I am thankful nonetheless.

I am thankful even despite the fact that, gap ads and celebrity sightings to the contrary, this is not a great look for me.

I wear the pants, even when I should clearly stick to a-lines.

Do I or do I not look like a maternal drag king?

I could smuggle baby rhinos stuffed with cocaine in these pants. The crotch space alone could house most of the cast of Little People Big World.

I look like an old photo from Christmas 1994, that someone took of your mom when she wasn't ready, like in the middle of wrangling 17 kids into the minivan, and you can hear her screaming "We gotta get to Grandma's house before Santa takes away all the presents you little shits!" and you just know there wasn't coffee in that mug. And now whenever the photo album comes out she grabs at it like, 'Oh jeeze, would you look at that? Don't look at that! Oh gawd just look at that" but really everyone knows that was back before things started to go downhill at breakneck speed.

Did you fucking kids make this mess? One more time and I'm taking away your shoes. You think I can't take away your shoes?? I invented shoes. That's it. I've had it. Barefoot for a month. All of you. Now go eat your meatloaf.