Straight
skirts were coming in style when I was in the 7th grade and oh how I
wanted one but to my disdain, my mom refused to buy me one. “Why can’t I have one?” I pleaded. “You’re
only eleven years old and too young to wear one” she replied. “But everyone
else is wearing them” I continued with my pleading. “You are not everyone” was
her final statement on that discussion.
Had
I heard that before? Of course I had as did every boy or girl heard that “you
are not everyone” comment. The problem
was that I was 5’7” at that age and looked way older than I actually was. And I so much wanted to fit in with the
crowd. And I was sick of wearing full skirts or full dresses.
There
was a girl up the street who was two years older than me and dressed more like
my mom. How her parents let her get by
with that will never be known but she did and what did she wear to school every
day? She wore a straight skirt.
Again
at a department store, I tried to coerce my mom into buying me a skirt like
that only to be met with the same “No.” I was sick at heart. Oh I could have asked my grandmother to buy me
one I’m sure but then she would have been on my mom’s bad side and I didn’t
want to put her there. Several weeks
passed and one day I went to the older girl’s house up the street. She had tons
of straight skirts and in every color imaginable. I got myself into a frenzy
because I just wanted one skirt like she had.
Came
back home and my working parents hadn’t come home yet. Heaven only knows why I did it but I went to
my mom’s closet and looked down at her high heels of which there were many.
Grabbed a brown pair and headed out of the house and up the street to the older
girl’s house and traded those shoes for a straight skirt. I did have to try it
on and it did fit and I felt so glamourous.
Took it off, put back on my full skirt and headed back home with that
skirt folded in my arms.
The
straight skirt was not out in plain sight for I knew I had done something
terribly wrong but things would get much worse when my parents got home. Within an hour, the car pulled up into the
driveway and my parents came inside. I was watching television and was met with
greetings and felt a hot lump in my throat for fear that my mom would miss
those shoes that were in her closet.
Instead
of her normally going into the kitchen, my mom went into her bedroom and within
minutes I heard “Sharon Lynn!” When you heard your first and middle name
together, you knew that trouble was looming and it was. “Where are my brown alligator shoes?” she
screeched at me. “They’re up the street
at that girl’s house. I didn’t think you wore those shoes and …”
The
rest of the words would not come out of my mouth. “Get up right now. We’re
going up the street to get my expensive shoes back!” I was frozen with fear and had to follow her
straight up the street: She was in a
furor. She rang the doorbell at least
ten times only to be met by the girl’s mother. “I came after my brown alligator
shoes and I want them right now!” “What shoes?” asked the mother. “My shoes!
Your daughter has them; my daughter traded them for a straight skirt of hers.”
I
just stood there like a statue afraid to move much less breathe. What seemed
like hours were really only minutes when the mother came out the door with my
mom’s shoes. “Now” said my mom to me “You go down to the house, get that straight
skirt and bring it right back here. I am not leaving until you get that skirt
and come right back here and you’d better be fast about it.”
My
face was crimson as I ran down the street to my house. “What’s going on?” asked
my dad. “I’m in trouble; mom is up the street. Have to get a skirt and I’ll be
right back.” “What trouble?” he asked. “It’s a long story dad and mom will tell
you” I told him as I rushed to my bedroom, grabbed that straight skirt and flew
out the door and up the street.
My
mom was still standing in the very same place on their front porch only she was
stomping one foot. “Now give back the skirt” she hollered at me. My now beet
red face felt as if it were glowing—that was how ashamed I was. I handed over that skirt to the girl’s mom
and off my mom and I came down the hill to our house. I was carrying nothing; she was carrying her
brown alligator shoes.
Going
inside the house was much worse for she started telling my dad what I had done.
“Do you realize that she exchanged my expensive shoes for a two dollar skirt?
My dad just sat there sort of numb. I
was mortified. “Go to your room young
lady and stay there. No dinner tonight and don’t you dare pull another stupid
trick like that ever!”
Throwing
myself onto my bed, the tears wouldn’t stop. I had really done something
totally stupid and had to pay for it. I remember my dad coming in to check on
me: “Are you all right?” he asked
soothingly. “I guess so.” He gave me a big hug and left the room; after that I
slept until morning. The only good thing
about that morning was that at least it was Saturday and I didn’t have to go to
school with bloated red eyes. I was
grounded the entire weekend and just knew that the girl up the street would
tell everyone at school on Monday morning.
If
I counted the times that I heard my mom tell me about what I had done, it would
be too many. Yes, it had been stupid on
my part for I had no idea that her shoes were that expensive. I was never so glad to see Monday come so I
could get out of the house and back with friends. “Have a good day” said my dad as he and my
mom headed for the car. My mom glared at
me. “See you after work” she said and off they went down the hill.
Feeling
crummy as well as having had been deceitful, I went ahead down the hill where I
met up with friends. The walk to the
junior high was a long one but this one time I was glad that it was. I had too
many feelings in my head to sort out.
When we got to school, I saw the older girl that lived up the street but
she said nothing. I imagine that her mom
had lit into her as well.
It
would be months before I got a straight skirt and it was brown with white
pinstripes. I can still envision it to
this day. Loved it and about wore it out.
The trade had been absurd on my part when I stopped and thought about it
but I had done it and paid the consequences.
Sometimes, when you really want something so badly and you can’t have
it, time seems to really matter if you’re eleven years old. But so
did being grounded. Rest my case.
Sherry
Hill
Copyright © 2014
Sherry Hill
All Rights Reserved
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