A fellow towel shopper reached toward the back of a shelf. She was a large woman, naked from her t-shirt to her sandals.
I did what others might do in this situation – silently gasped, forced a poker face, and pretended to scrutinize the craftsmanship of the towel loops while recovering from shock. I did the sneak-a-look, look away, sneak-a-look thing people do when they don’t mean to stare but feel compelled to assess the carnage of a train wreck. No one wants to be a fake alarmist.
Nearby shoppers were sneaking looks, too. I was contemplating whether I should alert security when I noticed a slight hem just above her ankles, revealing that we were dealing not with full-fledged nudity but with seamless khaki leggings. Semi-relief trickled over me.
Here’s a strong life lesson, I realized.
My mother’s voice kicked in: Form-fitting khaki garments are not your friends.
Holding up my three Girl Scout pledge fingers on my right hand, I silently vowed On my honor, I will try….to do everything in my power never to appear naked in public. That day, I purged all solid khaki clothing items from my wardrobe.
New towels would have to wait.