Pros and Cons of Bowleggedness
For my entire life, I have been bowlegged. I did not have rickets. I attribute the condition to riding horses and genetics. Many fine athletes, such as Gale Sayers and myself, are bowlegged. It gives us a better base for our superior balance than if we were, heaven forbid, knock-kneed. Tacklers find it much easier to tackle players whose knees collide anyway. One might be able to tackle a knock-kneed player with one hand, the knees being so close together and all. As everyone knows, Gale Sayers and I can only be tackled with great difficulty. An opposing player can barely reach around both knees at the same time. I don’t know if Gale likes to ride horses, but I do. Again, the advantage for a bowlegged rider is obvious. But enough about me and Gale.
Let’s contemplate the legs of my lovely wife, Miss Sugar. I doubt that prior to this very day she ever desired to have bowed legs. For example, when she won the swimsuit event in the Miss Texas pageant, she did not have bowed legs and it is possible that she might not have won had she had bowed legs. Of course, that is speculation, but nevertheless, Sugar has never seemed envious of my legs.
Today Sugar learned that her legs, as good as they might look, are not as functional as the bowed legs of me and Gale Sayers. I will tell you what happened today.
As we were talking to a lady in the front yard of a suburban neighborhood, she told us to watch out because a loose dog was coming towards us. The large dog approached from the rear. Suddenly, he was in front of me, having passed between my legs. It was like going under a bridge. I do not recall feeling any contact. He just walked through. I had an adequate inseam as well as space between my knees.
Then he tried the same thing with Sugar. It did not go so smoothly, The dog nearly knocked her down when he tried to go between her legs. He did not have room to maneuver once he tried to squeeze through. He got into the tight space and panicked. Sugar had to move forward with him to try to keep her balance because he was so tall that she was almost sitting on him. It was like she was riding him. They moved forward together for nearly ten feet. Finally, the dog was free again. Sugar kept her balance. The danger had passed.
Sugar might be re-thinking which of us has better legs.
The photo above was displayed for weeks at a gallery of photography. It was larger than life-size in the front window. These are Sugar’s actual legs. They served her well for modeling and girly things but, let’s face it, as Gale Sayers could tell you, they really would not work for a running back in the NFL. Just sayin’.
I am the fella wearing a blue shirt and white hat. Note how a large dog could run between my legs.
Girls’ Afternoon Out
My lovely wife, Sugar, aka Miss Texas, on occasion goes to a nail place for manicures and pedicures. Some women do that. Girly ones that is.
As you, dear readers, know, it is a universal truth that manly men do not get pedicures, nor do they get manicures. It is also an undisputed and widely known fact that I myself am a manly man. Well, until today that is. This very afternoon I committed an act which likely will lead to me being required to turn in my manly man club membership card.
But I can explain….
Several years ago a horse stepped on my left foot, resulting in an injury to my big toe. I don’t rightly know whether it broke my toe because I am too tough to get it checked out by medical personnel. I just know that the subject toe turned black and blue and the toenail fell off. The injury affected my gait for awhile causing me to go on “injured reserve” which as you can imagine prevented me from playing in any NFL games for that entire season, whichever season that was several years ago.
Unfortunately, that severe toenail injury resulted in the replacement toenail growing back in thicker and misshapen. Up until then, my appearance was without flaw. Since then, I have been unable to model sandals. Losing gigs as a sandal model has been costly by limiting my opportunities to earn a decent living.
So, out of economic concern, when Sugar, who was sharing a car with me, thus stranding me at the nail salon, suggested that I get a pedicure while I was stuck there waiting for her anyway, I conceded.
So I did, very self-consciously, take a seat in one of those pedicure chairs, carefully watching the front door in case someone I knew came in. I was ready to duck.
That toenail on my left big toe now looks and feels mahvelous!!!!!!!!!
Hey, before you judge me, walk a mile in my boots. It was pretty difficult with that thick, ugly, jagged toenail tearing holes in all my socks. Now my boots are more comfortable and, darn it, I am more secure about my masculinity than ever. (Just promise to not tattle to the National Football League Players Association. I don’t want to be laughed out of the locker room).