We went to Sweden six months after Per and I were married and right after we had moved from Orem, Utah to West Des Moines, Iowa. I had met a few people from Per’s family but was meeting the rest, for the first time, when we arrived at his house.
Just before we were about to get in the car, at 3:30 in the morning, and drive from West Des Moines to Kansas City, Per said “are you wearing that?” The airport in Kansas City was international and we had to fly from there instead of the airport by where we lived. I had gone shopping the night before and bought what the sales clerk had assured me looked cute. That’s what I was wearing when Per asked me the question. I didn’t know that the black leggings I had on were in fact tights and that my white underwear showed.
My shirt was a white rayon blouse that fell just below my hips. It had big black flowers, and a cute little ruffle that went around the bottom. No matter how nice the shirt was, it didn't make up for the fact that I had no pants on!
Per didn’t usually comment on my clothes. He may have thought things but he never said, and I never asked. It was unusual that he made a remark. He asked me the question and I was kind of offended. I knew how to buy clothes and I knew what I thought was cute. “Pfsh! Of course I’m wearing this!” I said. He didn’t say another word and we got in the car.
The outfit wasn’t what I usually wore. I wore things that were very traditional...and modest. It was the first time I was meeting Per’s family, and I wanted to look cute for them. Because of this, I had bought something new. The leggings and blouse were the “in” thing at the moment. The blouse was not the really long button up shirt of the 80’s and the pants were not stirrups, they were leggings. They went to the ankle and reminded me of something Madonna would wear. I was not trying to look like Madonna but look cute for Per's family.
Obviously the sales clerk wanted to make a sale and had told me what I wanted to hear. The fatal flaw was that I wore exactly what she said looked cute. She could have meant the blouse. However, that’s not what she said. She said “you" look cute. I interpreted her words to mean that “everything you have on is an outfit and it’s cute.” I had trusted her judgment and bought everything. When I had gotten home from shopping, Per was asleep. The first time he saw my clothes was that morning.
I didn’t realize my problem until we were in the sky. When I looked at my legs I could see through my pants. I mentioned it to Per and he looked at me with an expression that said I "told you so." I realized there was nothing I could do and looked at the seat in front of me like a deer looking in headlights.
Even though Kansas City was international, our plane stopped at another international airport (JFK in New York City) before flying to Stockholm.
Not only did we stop in New York City but we had to pick up our suitcases from the baggage claim and switch airlines - which meant switching terminals - which meant going outside. The problem I saw was that it was windy outside. I kept my arms to my sides as I walked so that my underwear wouldn’t show. We had no time to stop and open my suitcase. Our connection was tight and we had to hurry to make the flight. Per and our five year old son pulled all of our suitcases to the other terminal without any help from me. I was relieved when we boarded the plane and sat down.
As I sat in my seat, I looked at my legs again. Even though my shirt was longer when I sat, it was bunched up in my lap and I could clearly see my lack of pants. I wondered what I was going to do. Of course I decided to put some pants on when I could. I sat in my seat pondering how Per’s family would probably think that I was a country bumpkin when they saw me.
We got to Stockholm and Per’s home town was another four hours away. We grabbed our luggage from the baggage claim and quickly board another plane. Once again, we didn’t have any time to open my suitcase. At that point, we had been traveling for more than 24 hours and I didn’t care who saw what.
Per’s dad picked us up at the airport and didn't say a word about my pants. He just smiled and was happy to see me again. I let out a big sigh of relief when we got in the car. After Per shoved our luggage into the little trunk we took off toward his house.
When we pulled up, his brother and sister were waiting for us - and his sister’s boyfriend - and their little girl - and a neighbor lady that lived nearby - and his mom. “Come in, welcome” his mom said after she opened the front door. They hugged Per. His mom and the neighbor lady kissed him on the cheek then they gave me the same greeting and welcomed Bryan. Luckily, when we hugged, they couldn’t see my clothes.
I don’t know if anyone noticed that I wasn’t wearing pants. The next thing I did was open my suitcase, right there in the entryway, and grab the first pair of pants I saw.
Just before we were about to get in the car, at 3:30 in the morning, and drive from West Des Moines to Kansas City, Per said “are you wearing that?” The airport in Kansas City was international and we had to fly from there instead of the airport by where we lived. I had gone shopping the night before and bought what the sales clerk had assured me looked cute. That’s what I was wearing when Per asked me the question. I didn’t know that the black leggings I had on were in fact tights and that my white underwear showed.
My shirt was a white rayon blouse that fell just below my hips. It had big black flowers, and a cute little ruffle that went around the bottom. No matter how nice the shirt was, it didn't make up for the fact that I had no pants on!
Per didn’t usually comment on my clothes. He may have thought things but he never said, and I never asked. It was unusual that he made a remark. He asked me the question and I was kind of offended. I knew how to buy clothes and I knew what I thought was cute. “Pfsh! Of course I’m wearing this!” I said. He didn’t say another word and we got in the car.
The outfit wasn’t what I usually wore. I wore things that were very traditional...and modest. It was the first time I was meeting Per’s family, and I wanted to look cute for them. Because of this, I had bought something new. The leggings and blouse were the “in” thing at the moment. The blouse was not the really long button up shirt of the 80’s and the pants were not stirrups, they were leggings. They went to the ankle and reminded me of something Madonna would wear. I was not trying to look like Madonna but look cute for Per's family.
Obviously the sales clerk wanted to make a sale and had told me what I wanted to hear. The fatal flaw was that I wore exactly what she said looked cute. She could have meant the blouse. However, that’s not what she said. She said “you" look cute. I interpreted her words to mean that “everything you have on is an outfit and it’s cute.” I had trusted her judgment and bought everything. When I had gotten home from shopping, Per was asleep. The first time he saw my clothes was that morning.
I didn’t realize my problem until we were in the sky. When I looked at my legs I could see through my pants. I mentioned it to Per and he looked at me with an expression that said I "told you so." I realized there was nothing I could do and looked at the seat in front of me like a deer looking in headlights.
Even though Kansas City was international, our plane stopped at another international airport (JFK in New York City) before flying to Stockholm.
Not only did we stop in New York City but we had to pick up our suitcases from the baggage claim and switch airlines - which meant switching terminals - which meant going outside. The problem I saw was that it was windy outside. I kept my arms to my sides as I walked so that my underwear wouldn’t show. We had no time to stop and open my suitcase. Our connection was tight and we had to hurry to make the flight. Per and our five year old son pulled all of our suitcases to the other terminal without any help from me. I was relieved when we boarded the plane and sat down.
As I sat in my seat, I looked at my legs again. Even though my shirt was longer when I sat, it was bunched up in my lap and I could clearly see my lack of pants. I wondered what I was going to do. Of course I decided to put some pants on when I could. I sat in my seat pondering how Per’s family would probably think that I was a country bumpkin when they saw me.
We got to Stockholm and Per’s home town was another four hours away. We grabbed our luggage from the baggage claim and quickly board another plane. Once again, we didn’t have any time to open my suitcase. At that point, we had been traveling for more than 24 hours and I didn’t care who saw what.
Per’s dad picked us up at the airport and didn't say a word about my pants. He just smiled and was happy to see me again. I let out a big sigh of relief when we got in the car. After Per shoved our luggage into the little trunk we took off toward his house.
When we pulled up, his brother and sister were waiting for us - and his sister’s boyfriend - and their little girl - and a neighbor lady that lived nearby - and his mom. “Come in, welcome” his mom said after she opened the front door. They hugged Per. His mom and the neighbor lady kissed him on the cheek then they gave me the same greeting and welcomed Bryan. Luckily, when we hugged, they couldn’t see my clothes.
I don’t know if anyone noticed that I wasn’t wearing pants. The next thing I did was open my suitcase, right there in the entryway, and grab the first pair of pants I saw.
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