One Sunday long, long ago, I went to religious school and got roped into an impromptu play. One more person was needed to fill the ranks, and that person – despite my protests – turned out to be me.
It wasn't much of a play, really, which was good since I wasn't much of an actor. We said our lines from sheets of paper – a staged reading of sorts – and as for costumes, it was strictly 'come as you are'. For me that meant a favorite albeit somewhat old pair of trousers, a button-down shirt, and shoes that were only a little in need of polishing.
Being thrust headlong into a play was disconcerting, but once the play was over, I felt vaguely euphoric. It was done, and I hadn't made a total fool of myself in front of my classmates!
When I got home, filled with the glow of accomplishment, I ran inside to spread the news. "Mom," I shouted, "I was in a play!"
My mother spun around from in front of the kitchen sink, looked me up and down, and said, "You were in a play in those pants?"