The Problem of the Swishy Skirt

Have I ever mentioned that the wind blows here? Because it does. But this particular day wasn't very windy. Just a light breeze that occasionally blew and cooled us from the heat.

It was Monday evening and Daniel, the kids, and I were on a quest for patio furniture, with a quick stop to Walmart. I had found out early in our trip that the pretty, swishy green skirt I had chosen to wear that day was not the best choice.

This particular skirt was in no way immodest; it fell to my knees and had lots of fabric. I was also wearing appropriate undergarments... thankfully.

The problem came with the swish. Swish and wind don't mix all that well. I was constantly having to gather my skirt up at the side and hold it firmly down.

Otherwise, I was going to be pulling a Marilyn Monroe.

I was holding it together pretty well... until I got out of the van at Walmart. The wind had a hayday with my skirt, blowing it all over while I desperately tried to keep it down. But here is where the real problem came in... I had an audience. A man, who was walking to his truck, decided he was getting a free show. He stood and watched me. His nasty eyes taking in my struggle.

I was so mad!

I finally got my skirt somewhat under control and started to help get the kids out. That man was still watching me, with perversion written all over his face. I mentioned something to Daniel and he got angry, asking who! and where! I told him to not worry about it - let's just get the kids out - I'm fine.

But as the man backs his truck out and drives by he was still watching. Craning his neck so he could see me. In my maturity I yelled at him to keep driving "you disgusting man!"

I know, one of my finer moments, really.

And that's when Daniel lost it. He started to run after the truck, ready to defend my honor.

(I feel compelled to interject that Daniel is not a violent person. But he would have defended me well.)

I called him back. Telling him I was fine. Really, I was fine.

Daniel turned around and I saw his face. I felt like I had stripped him of his duty. That I had been violated and I had used my words to tied my husband's hands behind his back.

It's bothered me ever since. I feel like I sacrificed Daniel's honor, as well as my own, on the altar of my pride.

What would you have done in my situation?