By Lorry Myers
It was going to be hot at the picnic; even under the shade of a tent, there would be no relief. Knowing this, I decided to wear something light and easy and open to any breeze that came my way. I chose a blue cotton T-shirt dress, one shaped like a triangle so it would swing when I walked and stir the air around me.
When I say it was hot, I mean it was hot.
It was an “official” picnic, which meant the crowd would be large and varied and eager to get out of the heat, just like me. Someone had spent a lot of time putting together the food and the tent and the door prizes, but the relentless sun seemed to cast a shadow on the fun.
It was really, really hot.
The open-air tent with tables was beginning to fill so I quickly secured a chair near one of the giant wind fans brought in to move the air. By now, my skin had turned sticky despite my light-weight dress. Underneath my hair was sweaty, my legs were clammy, and I was officially over it. I am normally not a person who openly perspires but this day was not normal. All I wanted to do was get in my car and crank my air, so I decided the perfect time to slip away would be when they handed out the door prizes.
I never win anyway.
I was busy planning my escape when they called the first winning number and just like that, I was a winner. Impulsively, I leaped out of my chair, raising my sweaty arms in celebration. I just so happened to jump in front of the giant fan and when I did, the force of the wind pressed the back of my cotton dress onto my hot skin and there it stayed.
Stuck.
I swear that dress clung to me in places that no dress ever should. I foolishly believed that I could walk it off but when I stood in the wind of the fan and took those first few steps, that dress blew up the back of my clammy legs and gathered in an unfortunate place.
You know what I mean.
I had a long walk to claim my door prize, that meant my backside and the awkward placing of my dress would be on full display.
Nobody wants to see that.
So, I gave my dress a slight tug and quickly found out that a tug was not enough. If I tugged the dress every time I took a step, and added in a little wiggle, I could feel the material slowly become unstuck.
In all places but one.
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard.
