Embarrassing First Date I wasn’t born near-sighted, no, but after a bout with the chicken pox at the age of 5, I started to not see well. Things far away were fuzzy. My grandmother insisted that I be kept in the dark for fear the pox would spread even more quickly. But my mother, being young and inexperienced about health matters, didn’t listen to her mother-in-law. Whatever caused the sight problem didn’t matter, by the time I was 6 years old, I couldn’t see the blackboard at school. In the early 1960’s, wearing glasses was a more than a curse, it was a fashion nightmare. The style of the day was “cat eye” frames, and especially on girls it was not attractive! It wasn’t fair! No one in the family as far back as I could find, wore glasses! Only the older family members wore them because of their age. I was the freak, the odd ball, the one with the weak eyes. Strike one… We were a poor family, my dad worked two jobs to keep us afloat. By the time I was 8 years old, we had 4 kids in the family. Mom never worked, she needed to stay home with the kids, besides, our family was of the norm in those days, mom stayed home, and dad worked to support the family. That was the way it was “supposed” to be. We moved around a lot, for different reasons, mostly because the family grew. But we stayed in the same small town, just moving to different neighborhoods. So if I made friends with kids, it was only for a short time before we were up and gone again. Strike two… I struggled through school, I was a average student, but painfully shy. My hair was always stringy, I wore glasses, and looked like an orphan most of the time. My clothing was home made, or hand-me-down items, but we always had food to eat, and good shoes. Mom said shoes were important. When the time came around for me to go to the 7th grade, we moved again. Mom didn’t want me to go to the Jr. High in our district, so off we go. We moved into an acceptable neighborhood, so I could go to the Jr. High of her choice. It took a long time for me to adjust, again, to making new friends, but, I eventually did. In the spring of 1964 our school had a spring dance. I wanted to go so badly! I wanted a pretty dress, high heel shoes, and just to go on a date! I begged and pleaded, please let me go! The excuse was, “We don’t have the money for a new dress”, much less shoes and all the other things to go with it. And Mom reminded me, besides, you don’t have a date! As the time got closer to the event, a very shy timid boy in my English class slipped me a note. He wanted to take me to the spring dance! I thought I had died and went to Heaven! I got a date, me, the homely shy girl, who could hardly look straight into the eyes of any boy! Got a date! I said yes without even thinking, flew home on winged feet that day, and presented my dilemma to mom and dad. The first things out of their mouths were “How are we going to afford this?” It was out of the question, no way could I go. I was crying by the time I finished my sad saga, about how I really needed to go to this dance to be accepted, and how much I have always wanted a pair of “real” high heel shoes, and how all my friends would be there…after an hour of sobbing, they relented. Mom would find a way to get the things I needed. So the adventure began. My mom could sew, and I was learning, she had an old dress she wore many years before and the fabric was still good. It was navy blue brocade taffeta, the type of fabric that whooshes when you move. O.K. I thought, that will do. At least it was a fancy fabric. Next I needed shoes, we scrimped on food that week so I could get a “good” pair of shoes. Oh, did I mention I was only 4’ 10”, 70 lbs. And wore a size 2 shoe? We went to every shoe store in our area, and no one made high heels to fit me. I was devastated! How could I go to a dance without high heels? I reluctantly, but out of necessity, had to buy an ornate pair of Mary Jane shoes. Well, at least I was going to the dance! It would be dark, maybe no one would notice, I was short anyways, so maybe… In the meantime, my mom was making the dress. I tried to help, but the fabric was too slippery, I made it worse. She wasn’t the best seamstress and didn’t have the talent to create a really fancy dress, so she made a gathered skirt, really full, there was a lot of fabric, to make up for the lack of details. The top was straight, sleeveless, and no shape, just like me. At least I could tuck the top into the skirt and it would look like a dress. At this point, I didn’t care, I was going on a date! The day came for the dance. I was whirling around the room setting all my things out, and realized I didn’t have stockings to wear. Mom said I could wear a pair of hers. In those days we didn’t have pantyhose, we wore garters and stockings. So I got a garter belt from mom, a pristine white one, and she showed me her stock of nylons to choose from. I kept looking for a dark pair, since my dress was navy blue, I thought that would look the best, but none there. She had a particular liking for a color called cinnamon, a reddish brown color, that made your legs look like red clay. I couldn’t find a matching pair of any color but cinnamon! So, again I settled, because I was going on a date! I don’t remember exactly what I was doing in my room to get ready, but my glasses fell of my face, and one of the side arms broke! I could only get glasses once a year, because of the cost, so it was a major catastrophe when something happened to them. I can’t go to the dance with one side of my glasses missing! I couldn’t walk without them, and dancing would be out of the question with them that way, I would be constantly holding them on! I went sobbing to mom. She was creative, but sometimes in an unconventional way. She came up with the idea to take the arm of another pair of glasses and put them on the ones I was wearing. The only problem was, my current glasses were lt. blue, and my old ones were pink. (Not much selection back then.) I couldn’t go with two tone glasses! So while I was once again sulking in my room, she painted them with nail polish. A good idea, but did she have use hot pink? When they were dry, she presented them to me, as if they were a treasure, and announced, "Now you can go!” I looked at her with horror in my eyes, she couldn’t figure out why. She thought they looked “cute”. But, she reminded me, I am going on my first date, I can’t let this chance slip by! So I put the glasses on smelling like nail polish, and praying I would not be noticed. When I am finally ready for my date to pick me up, here is the sight he sees; A skinny, short girl, stringy hair with a small amount of curl to it, (Mom tried her best to curl my unruly mop), with a dress on that looks like I fell into the top of an umbrella, patent leather shoes stuck onto clay legs, and those awful glow-in-the-dark pink glasses! I don’t know if it was fright, or disgust on his face, but he was very kind, and slipped the corsage onto my wrist and off we went in his mom’s car to the dance. After that night, I never spoke to him again, and soon he moved away, I think to his relief of trying to get the picture of his first date out of his mind! I didn’t get asked out on a date again for many months after that. The word got out, I was a little different, maybe even odd. Strike three, I’m out! The impression that my first date had on me will stay with me forever, it has been nearly 45 years later, it is still fresh in my mind, like it happened yesterday. Funny, I thought the embarrassment would fade, but, I still feel it, when I let it.
Copyright © 2001 Susan T Fisher |