Giving Up The Ghost

I've already admitted that cursing is my first love, but I have another that comes in very close second; daisy dukes. You can call them short shorts or hot pants, but either way they've been part of my life for nearly 20 years. The first time I cut some jeans dangerously short, it was thrilling. I felt saucy and surprisingly comfortable. I knew I could never go back to long hideous shorts again.

In Georgia, most young girls wore them. Not only to look awesome, but to help keep yourself cool. You could nearly wear them year round. Ride your bike down the street with the barest of legs. Burn yourself on the electric box while sitting and flirting with boys. Figure out super stealth ways to pull them down for hall monitors, conveniently hiding your ass crack with your backpack because they were so low. These shorts were more than clothing, they were a way of life.

Even the gym teachers wore them. We even had a little ditty for one particular teacher.

Coochie Cutters

Coochie Cutters

Why, Tanner, Why?

It wasn't particularly inventive, but it was catching.

Much to my husband's chagrin, I kept wearing my short shorts up until this last year. Suddenly I put some on this spring and didn't feel right. I was shocked and dismayed at myself. What happened to me? Was I so old now, matronly and proper? If they make mom jeans surely they make mom shorts? Scarily long and puffy up top. I do like my standard mom clam diggers, but there is no way I could wear a short that could graze my knee. I would feel like a rat in a cage.

I've found a happy medium with mid thigh level as opposed to the standard under the behind. My younger self hates me for it and my old lady side is still not sure, but I have to balance somewhere. I've never been one to show cleavage, but I like to have my legs free.

It was a day of mourning when I packed up my shortest shorts and gave them to the Good Will. I could hear in the back of my head a teenage voice telling me how old and lame I was. How can I feel uncomfortable in something that I've loved so long? Do I suddenly want to seem respectable; a Gymboree Mom clone? I honestly don't know the answer. Maybe I'm belatedly growing up.

I will never forget all the good times I had running, bending down, dancing, studying, thievin', cursing, flirting, and rollerskating in my daisy dukes. I just hope that those memories will stay with me even if I can't make any new ones.