Corpse Legs

First and foremost, I want to send a huge Shout Out to all the people who sent hugs and luvs and support when my Father passed away last month.*   You all have my deepest gratitude.  Thank you.

The two weeks surrounding Dad’s passing were the most stressful of my entire life and it goes without saying that when I get stressed I do Stupid things and the greater the stress the greater the Stupid.

Two days before the funeral, I ripped through my closet looking for something to wear only to find that nothing fit (thank you Diabetic Medication).  I went shopping and found a dress, then stood in front of the two colors of pantyhose the store had in stock.  And I definitely needed pantyhose to disguise my poor un-tanned legs (thank you, shitty summer).  Light or dark.  Light or dark.  The dark ones were stupidly dark but the light ones were close to the actual colour of my legs, so those were the ones I grabbed.

And now…..a quick word on Anxiety.  There are going to be people at this funeral.  Even worse, Family people.  Family people who know every stupid thing I’ve ever done, have heard all the stories, have re-told all the stories and watched me humiliate myself in spectacular fashion on numerous occasions.  They aren’t terrible people; they just have knowledge I would rather they not have.  And the effort to avoid more humiliation in front of them fuels ever more anxiety.  To be honest, I’d rather stand in a crowd of strangers because those people have no point of reference to compare – they take me as I am, right at that moment, totally unaware that I’m a train wreck waiting to happen.  They’ll be just as surprised as I am when shit happens and it’s easier to avoid strangers than it is to live down the reputation that precedes me at family events.

Anyway, the morning of the funeral, I made myself a promise to just let it happen.  Take what comes with dignity and grace and hope for the best.  Deep breaths.

And it worked.  Until I was getting dressed and realized that those fucking pantyhose were too light!  So light, in fact, that my legs resembled something from The Walking Dead.  I would have tossed them and went au naturel except I hadn’t shaved my legs because I had Pantyhose!  That’s a terrifying choice to make on the day of your Father’s funeral – corpse legs or hairy legs.  I feel another ‘Typical Lori’ story coming.

Just forget about it, Lori.  There’s nothing you can do about it now so stop beating yourself up. 

And that worked brilliantly until I got in the car and saw my legs stretched out in front of me.

Geezus!

via GIPHY

I almost chickened out completely at the Funeral Home, but I put my chin up and wiggled my way through the crowd.  I found the Funeral Director in the middle of the foyer and asked where Mom was – in the Family Room, of course.    I was relieved for exactly 23 seconds until I realized the Family Room was filled with Family.  White spots started dancing at the edge of my vision and my chest tightened.  Fuck me!  I immediately looked for the Sister I was most comfortable with and headed in that direction before I passed out.  Everyone was looking.  Probably without judgement but that would end as soon as they saw myfuckinglegs!

I sat down on a sofa behind my Sister and said, “Look at my legs!  They look like CORPSE legs!”  She turned around, most likely to tell me to keep my voice down when discussing corpses at this particular moment but before she could say anything, I lifted a leg and made point-y/stabby motions at it.  “CORPSE LEGS!”

And then my mind froze, and my vision darkened.  Did I just say the word “Corpse” at a Funeral?  My Dad’s funeral?  Christ!  Not only did I say it, but I shouted it, didn’t I?  Everyone in the entire building heard me compare my legs to a corpse.  In a building built specifically for corpses.  Sweet Jesus!

via GIPHY

At the Luncheon in the Seniors Centre, I hoped to get a cup of coffee and a dark corner.  That wasn’t to be, though.  What followed was a wonderful/terrifying hour of hugging and exchanging pleasantries.  People who were friends of Mom and Dad, came to introduce themselves and they were so kind and sweet.  One of them had been wanting to meet me because my Dad always talked about me.  Oh Gawd!  Really?  What stories do you know?!  A teacher from 6^th grade came over.  “Mrs. Venables?!”  She had been hoping to see me, too.  Oh Gawd!   Please don’t tell an embarrassing story from 6^th grade.  I hoped I wasn’t the only person in the family she was hoping to see.  My favorite cousins were there, and it was so wonderful to see them again, too.  There were many others and, joy of joys, no one told a humiliating story about me even once.

That I heard, anyway, but I’m willing to accept that as a win.

So, I lived through it.  None of my worst nightmares happened.  I was worried for no reason at all and I should learn from this experience.  Besides, no one will remember my Corpse Legs by next week anyway.  Or will they?

Pre-booking my next Anxiety Attack now.

* Especially you, Catherine – the card was perfect!  Cherie did excellent!  Give him a hug for us.