Fig. 01
You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? That one pair of socks you own, that pair that you leave in your drawer until all others are dirty, the uncomfortable pair that lost their elasticity long ago… the socks with the very thick stitching at the toe that doesn’t stay in place… the shoes that are so cute but don’t allow your foot to release itself of uncomfortable slouching and sagging. The inevitable result–Sock Piggy.
When I was a wee Snowbird, before learning how to buckle, unbuckle, dress or undress, my mommy would put my shoes and socks on for me. I had alot of those white nylon socks with lace on the cuff (see fig. 01). My shoes were hardly ever made of a flexible, natural material. Back in the day even babies wore stiff, high top white boots to prevent foot problems. Yeah well as far as I’m concerned Sock Piggy is a far worse offense than anything else a stiff shoe might prevent.
When mommy would slip on the socks I could tell right away that it was going to happen. If you don’t have them pulled up tight then the slouching around the toe begins even before the shoe is on. With the application of the shoe the sock becomes an enemy far beyond reconciliation. The material shifts, scrunches, bunches and stuffs itself between the toes. Most commonly between the pinky toe and the ring toe. The moment this sensation crept up my limbs I became enraged. I believe that before I could really form sentences the term “Sock Piggy!” was coined. Picture little Snowbird sitting on the edge of the changing table, kicking her feet in a wild fury and not being able to communicate what was wrong. Mommy is no doubt frustrated and just getting clothes on her squirmy toddler in time to go to Church will be good enough for her.
“Sock, Mommy, Sock!” Snowbird whines.
“Just sit still Katie, Daddy’s waiting for us out in the car.”
The invasion of sock bunched up between little Snowbird’s toes creates an uncontainable sense of anxiety. The tears begin.
“Mommy sock. Mommy, sock.”
“Mommy SOCK.”
“Mommy SOCK!!!” Tension mounts and yields to a melodramatic display.
“Mommieeeeeeee no! Sock. Mommy SOCK. Mommy SOCK! Piggy. Piggy PIGGIES Mommy! SOCK Mommy SOCK PIGGIEEEEE!” If the neighbors hear the high-pitched protest they’ll call the police, suspecting foul play.
Mommy figures it out. “OOh, your sock is stuck between your piggies?” She would laugh later but right now she is in a rush and Snowbird is not making this easy. “Yes Mommy!” Snowbird wails, “Sock Piggieeeee…”
In a huff the shoes come off, the offending sock is picked from the aflicted toe, the shoe goes back on. Roughly.
“Nooooo! No! Mommy no!!! SOCK PIGGY!”
Exasperated, mommy repeats the process until Snowbird’s violent screams quiet down to an exhausted little sniffle. The trip to Church is not a happy one.
I share this with you for a reason. Right now I have Sock Piggy. I’ve had it since I got dressed this morning and have tried multiple times to fix it. It’s these socks and these boots, a deadly combination. I am going go buy some less offensive socks at lunch. I cannot, will not, shall not stand it. I hate, hate, HATE Sock Piggy. If there’s one way to annoy me into a violent kicking mess, intentional Sock Piggy will do it. It is the worst feeling in the world.
The Symptoms of Sock Piggy ©2004 Catherine Erin Hamilton
