Size does matter

Lots of people will try to convince you otherwise, but size really does matter. It's not politically correct to talk about the subject, but let's go there. Just for a minute. Do you want the ginormous slice of delectable pie or the teeny one. How about the 2 carat, flawless engagement ring versus the one plucked from a Cracker Jack box. A thick , cozy comforter on a frigid winter's night or a thin cotton throw. Sure you'd be thrilled to have any of them. Something is better than nothing, right? Of course. But which would you rather have?

This weekend we had a house full of guests for Thanksgiving. It's hard to get a large group of people moving let alone motivated to do the same things. Football, apparently, is the common denominator. Sigh. We had tickets to the Miami at NC State game and, as is typical for me, the weather was moderately uncooperative. I'm sure you're wondering what on earth any of this has to do with size. Well, stay with me.

The weather forecast for the game was not great. Cold. Windy. Light breeze. RAIN. Brrr. I tried to dress appropriately for the weather. I had on a turtleneck, down vest, winter coat, long underwear, jeans, shoes and socks and one mitten. I may or may not go back to explain the one mitten thing. When I arrived at the game I felt good about my clothing choices. I thought I'd be comfy -- as long as it didn't rain.

I thought wrong. At the end of the first quarter the chill was starting to seep through my layers. I commented on this to my sister-in-law who appeared to be snug and warm. She lives in Aspen, and understands how to dress for serious cold. So she looks me over, and in the blink of an eye explains why I am pretty much going to freeze. Are you ready? Drum roll, please....

My socks.

You're kidding, right? I was wearing those short little footie socks that you're not supposed to be able to see when you're wearing tennis shoes. Frankly, they are the only type of sock I own. In contrast, my sister-in-law pulled up her pant leg to show me her thick, knee-length socks. My mother-in-law then proclaimed that she was wearing not one, but three pair of socks. Hmmm. I haven't worn knee socks since middle school P.E., and I seriously don't think I've ever worn more than one pair of socks at a time. Multiple socks sounds like the express route to a foot full of blisters to me. But what do I know? According to them, that sliver of exposed ankle skin was going to make me freeze. I looked at them dubiously but let it go.

As I sat there getting chillier by the quarter I did notice a trend. My upper body was toasty warm. However, my long underwear only reaches to just below my knees, and from the knee down I was not feeling toasty. There was a constant draft of frigid air infiltrating my warmth. I pondered this between touchdowns, and late in the third quarter, as a gargantuan blocker for NC State literally squashed a little runner for Miami (Yes, I am the go-to-girl for all things football) I had my epiphany:

If I had longer bigger socks and longer bigger long underwear I could thoroughly have enjoyed the game instead of mostly enjoying it because I was slowly turning into a human Popsicle.

So the moral of the story is that size does matter. And the proper socks can save your bacon.

And also that your in-laws are usually right, but I'll reserve that for another post.