One of the awesome things about living in a small, rural town is the events that the city will sponsor throughout the year. I love going to Santa’s Village, hosted by the City of Martin and the Parks and Recreation Department. I love to watch the excitement on my girl’s faces when they see all those lights, the petting zoo, Santa Claus, and the spinning barrels of death that have puke dried to the floor. I don’t get in there anymore. I almost up-chucked two years ago making it “go faster daddy.” Never again.
But I digress…
Hey!! Big excitement just a few minutes ago as I was tweeted back by Clay Travis!!! For those of you who don’t know, he has a great sports blog and website in the Nashville area. He is a really good follow on Twitter, @ClayTravisBGID, with all things Tennessee, and SEC sports. I know I’m being a goober, but it makes me feel like somebody.
But I digress…
I’ve always believed I’m pretty self aware. I know my shortcomings in most things, understand that not everyone likes me, I run my mouth just a smidgeon more than I need to, there are times I don’t practice what I preach, I’m very opinionated (often a detriment), and I can be hard to get along with.
I’m also dashingly handsome………….quit laughing…
However, there will be a day when that self awareness slowly starts to dissipate. It’s kind of like the older gentlemen who wear black, calf high socks and tennis shoes and shorts.
Don’t do that.
In fact, I have a pact with a dear friend that, if either of us begins to wear that ensemble, we are allowed to kick the other below the belly button and above the thigh.
I’m trying to get back in the gym, and one of the things I like is the cardio interval class. I’m one of the only guys in there, but I doesn’t bother me. I just like to see just how far I can push my athletically fat self. I try to dress appropriately. I color coordinate, and wear a sweatshirt for extra sweat because I hate fans blowing on me when I’m trying to work out. I don’t want to be cold.
I was reminded tonight how my long shorts are a good thing. Long gone are the days of shorty shorts like Jimmy Connor used to wear…..or so I thought. Tonight I saw, after it being pointed out to me by a bunch of women, an older gentleman on a stationary bike on the balcony above our class. As he was getting off the bike, his shorts also had some trouble holding in some, uhh, stuff.
One thought raced through my head:
Holy cow that could be me in 30 years.
People are always paying attention….always. It doesn’t matter how old you are, people pay attention to the way you treat them, even if you’re being coy.
Walking past your Dad’s best friend and looking the other way hurts them.
Looking right at someone at a Christmas party and turning your head to avoid eye contact is rude.
Dropping your head when you see someone you go, or used to go, to church with so you don’t have to acknowledge them is just plain hurtful.
The worst part of it is our children notice.
That scares me to death because I want my kiddos acting like their momma….not like me.
And I want them to wear long shorts, and dresses, and long sleeves, and turtlenecks.
They don’t need anything falling out.