Sock Flop

 

 

The glory days of the 1950’s had its sock hops—the whirling, twirling dances of youth.

 

The 1950’s were before my days (born 1963), but now in the 2010’s, I am able to go back in time and enjoy the same spinning, flailing dance moves.

Thanks in part to multiple sclerosis, that is.

 

You see, with MS, a “sock hop” quickly becomes a “sock flop.”

Simply combine my MS….stocking feet….and any hard floor surface (linoleum, tile, hardwood) and I fall faster than the value of your IRA.

 

 

 

Wearing socks can be as repelling to me as kryptonite is to Superman.

As garlic is to Dracula.

Or as the Super Bowl is to the Cleveland Browns.

 

 

 

It’s not that our floors are super slippery either.

Maybe it’s my horrible sense of balance.  I mean, a college student’s checkbook has more balance!

I stand there, knees locked, ackward posture–when my stocking feet begin to shift, slip & slide like a politician dodging the issues.

 

 

 

Why, I’ve even done the “Bambi” thing.

Remember in the movie when Bambi is standing on the frozen pond and her legs slip apart? 

Been there.  Done that.  I’ve performed the splits with my man-junk hitting the floor with a force that registered as seismic activity.

 

 

 

So what do I do about it?  Some suggest wearing slippers.  To which I say “fooey” for two reasons.  One, I’m a guy–guys don’t wear slippers.  And two, I don’t like the word “slippers.”  Slipping is my problem.  If I want to slip I will wear banana peels.

 

That’s why I wear shoes–all day long.

Here is a picture of my everyday shoes.  They have more wear than a retired streetwalker.  I call them my “sliders” because the sole is worn away.  They skim over carpeting and provide just enough traction on a hard floor.

When my “sliders” finally go, I don’t know what I will do.

It is sick how I rely on these old dogs to get me around!

 

 

Have you taken a few “sock flops” in your day?

What do you do to minimize your spills?

And I know you have a pair of well-worn “sliders” you want to tell me about!

 

Tread lightly my friend.  Put on your poodle skirt.  And comb your duck tail.  (Hopefully you are not doing both!)

It’s time to hit the dance floor—with our feet and not our butts!