My life has always followed an academic calendar. End of August/beginning of September always meant leaving summer behind and embarking on something new. Brimming with possibilities. New clothes. New shoes. New lip stick shade. New experiences while wearing it all. New people to see the new clothes, the new shoes and the new lipstick. A new school year. That's where I am at right now. On the brink of a new school year. Toni is getting mentally prepared for her third year in high school. We are not allowed to use the words "back to school" around her unless we add a fourth word...."shopping". She sees the possibilities......in fashion. For the first time in many years, I'm not getting 2 kids ready to go back to school. It hurts a little. And, I'll miss buying socks.
More than likely, my addiction to buying socks began because of some deep, primal need to exercise my creativity. With boys' fashions not being so much fun in the 80's and having a son who was destined to wear khaki all of his life, socks became my outlet and the only way I knew how to control my son's wardrobe. And, then, of course, there's the whole mothering thing......I never wanted my children to have cold feet. It just seemed cruel not to buy them socks. And, then there was the problem with my dryer always eating socks. That left me fretting over the day they would become sockless. Irrational, neurotic behavior---yes. But this is how it all began. My spiral into the dark and sometimes argyle life of maniacal sock hording.
Entering sock withdrawl at the very same time as I'm becoming acquainted with my new life as a lap bander as well as mourning the loss of all things solid has forced me to examine the underlying issues that brought me to this point in my life. After many hours of self exploration and reflection, the way I see it is like this----my sock-love thing is intimately connected to the many challenges I've faced during my years of diets and battling obesity. Socks are safe. So, yes, even though it all began as a creative outlet, it eventually morphed into a social-shopping-avoidant anxiety disorder. You see, socks are not like jeans. There are no skinny socks. There are no plus size socks. If you are a woman and you want a pair of socks, you head to the woman's hosiery department. Even if you are a plus size woman, you can still shop in the woman's hosiery department. There are no children's sections called "the chubby socks section". Same goes for everyone. You want socks, the only thing separating you from the next socks buyer is possibly your gender or your age. There is no line drawn or sign on the wall that announces your weight, the size of your hips or your stomach or your back side. These are socks. They go on your feet. They do not have special stores for plus size socks. You can shop among the regular sock buyers. The salesperson doesn't look at you with that "NO WAY!" attitude as you hold up a lovely pair of paisley socks. The shopper next to you doesn't give you the once over as you pick up the same pair of socks as her even if she's a size 2 and you are a size 20! We are all equal in the sock department. Of course, some of us have better taste in socks than others. But, that discussion is for another blog entry. Socks shopping....a place where you are accepted. That's all I'm talking about here. All I've ever wanted for myself and my children. With socks, we are all the same. (well, except for people with bad taste in socks). Now, it all makes sense. All I ever wanted was to shop like everyone else. And, I wanted to the same for my children. That's not such a crazed fantasy....is it?