I was a really skinny kid. My knees were the biggest part of me. Big bony joints set in the middle of some weird twigs.
It doesn’t matter so much when you are eight. Everybody’s knees are scabby wonderlands anyway.
Miniskirts were popular when I was in high school in the sixties. I was still skinny everyplace except my knees, but I could cover them up with tights. Not that yellow tights make your knees look smaller, but yellow tights certainly spread the visual interest, so to speak.
Ah, the college years! Bell-bottom jeans and maxiskirts. Problem solved.
Of course a few years have gone by [forty]. In the ensuing years I added a few layers of dimples and pillows to my big knees. But on the upside, they aren’t bony any more.
My knees haven’t been a big deal. I’m an accountant. I work in an office. Behind a desk. Which is so much better than being a movie star (which was my second choice).
This year my company had a contest to try to get the staff a little healthier. Lose 10 pounds in 10 weeks and get $100. I’m not significantly overweight, but technically I qualified. So why not?
And I did it! Of course, it took fourteen weeks, so no hundred dollars. But I’m ten pounds lighter. As a matter of fact, since I had also lost ten pounds a few years ago for my high school reunion, I am the thinnest I have been in fifteen years.
Time to celebrate! My first inclination is a big bowl of coffee walnut ice cream with hot fudge sauce.
But then I had a better idea. Well, actually the same idea I always have – SHOPPING.
We’ve had a really hot summer, and I’ve had a yen for a sundress. And now I have a sundress body, so I went online and ordered two. I didn’t really want two; I wanted a choice. Keep the best, return the rest – that’s my motto.
This was a good strategy in theory. Until I got the shipment. These two sundresses were in a manila envelope. Both. The dresses were purported to be made from t-shirt cotton. I’ve seen this lightweight cotton described as ’tissue cotton’. That’s appropriate, I think, because they were just like Kleenex. Single ply.
So those went back and I went out to shop in person. Only most of the sundresses were just like the ones I ordered. Very thin material. And also – very very SHORT.
I don’t want a long dress. I wore those in college. I was a hippie. But I am not a hippie now. (Not even ‘hippy’ with a ‘y’, thanks to the contest.) But it seems there are only two choices when it come to sundresses – down to your ankles or up the wazoo.
And so my knee dilemma returns. With an added complication. Even with great knees – and perhaps someone has some, but I’m not sure – how short can you go if you are in your sixties? Is there a forbidden zone that kicks in at a certain age? Am I there?
I found a sundress that’s not too see-through, not too bare, and only a little bit shorter than modesty might indicate. I believe strongly in age-appropriate dressing. But I figure when the weather is really hot, semi-appropriate might be acceptable.
Of course, the saleswoman (who was about nineteen) told me it was fabulous. So I asked a fellow shopper who was more like forty (and trying on a maxi-sundress) if she thought the dress might be too short for ‘someone my age’ – without actually defining what that was. It was unfair of course. This nice lady could hardly say, “Go cover up, you look hideous.”
What she actually said was, “Not at all. That’s a beautiful color for you.”
I’m aware that she changed the subject, which is not a good sign. But I focused on the ‘not at all’ part and bought the dress anyway.
And yesterday, I happened upon this unfortunate Facebook mistake:
Yes, it’s kind of a shame, albeit an amusing shame, if you have a knee that has a little face in it. But it’s also sweet of Facebook to want to give your knee a name.
If I had to name my knees, I guess I would go with Lavina and Agatha. Because I have my Grandmas’ knees.