The sun has been out for a few days. It has been magnificent. I've been sitting out on the grass watching my children ride the bikes and drip orange sherbet all over the driveway.
Since the sun was out, I thought it would be a good time to pull out my pink pants to pay homage to the festive weather. I have this pair of pink silk pants that I rarely wear--partly because they are pink and I live in Seattle, and partly because they are silk and I'm a mother of three youngsters. But the stars seemed to align yesterday. I needed to go teach a dance class and my children were staying to play at a friend's house--and with the sun it just seemed like a pink pants kind of day.
Well, I didn't entirely think it through. Currently I am in the middle of choreographing a 50's swing that is really high energy. There is a lot of twisting and hopping and kicking and jumping. Plus, I wanted the boys to do some moves that were a little fun and zany, but they felt like they were "feminine." I said, "I know I'm a girl, but just do it in a boy way." And then I tried to demonstrate how a boy might do the step, to which one of the boys replied, "Yeah, I just can't see it. The pink pants are throwing me off."
I finally convinced them to do the step and once they saw each other do it they became convinced that it was cool enough and so we moved on. Well, the next step involved a drop where the boys squat and the girls kick their legs through the boys legs and end up in a spread-eagle pose underneath. Since Matt wasn't there, I grabbed one of the boys and managed to demonstrate the girl's part. The problem was that the boys were not spreading their legs apart when they would squat--so you can imagine that it was very difficult for the ladies to get their legs through and into a spread-eagle pose.
That was when I decided to show the boys what a deep squat really looks like. Ripppp. My pink pants were never designed to be in such a position. As Fate would have it, the tearing sound was the lining inside the pants, and not the actual pant, and so I wasn't completely humiliated in front of a room full of teenagers. Although, based on the look on their faces, I think they would have been more traumatized than I would have been.
Once I had determined that there were no holes in my pants and everyone breathed a sigh of relief, one of the ladies said, "I think you should stick to being a girl."
Sound advice. I suppose if one decides to wear pink silk pants one should avoid deep squats.
So that is probably the end of the pink pants. It is unlikely I will find another opportunity to wear them when I am without small children, when it is not raining, when there is no chance that I will need to squat or split, and when I also happen to be in a pink pants mood. One too many qualifiers.
If you want them, come and get them. They are in the back of my closet.
